The Shrew War, Book VII: The Isle of Death
by Highwing
Summary: Urthblood, Snoga and Tratton are all put in their places.
1. Chapter 113

Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen

"My Lord, I think you'd better come see this ... "

Tratton let Korba's rather informal and inappropriately familiar summons pass without comment or reprimand, since only the two royal guards out in the passage outside his stateroom seemed to have heard it, and Tratton had indeed requested that the intelligence officer keep him appraised of any noteworthy developments on shore. So, the Searat King wordlessly followed Korba up to the top deck of the _Wedge_, his pair of ever-present protectors tagging along behind them.

Tratton quickly saw that the focus of activity ashore lay not directly opposite the ironclad at the base of Salamandastron but rather a short way to the south, around the woodlander trader vessel the _Goodwill_. Producing his long glass, the sea tyrant studied the large assemblage of creatures gathered there, waiting their turn to be ferried aboard by the cargo craft's two rowboats.

"That _is_ Urthblood, isn't it?" Korba asked his master.

"Aye," Tratton replied absently, slipping unconsciously into the more nautical jargon of his younger days. That bulky suit of red armor was hard to miss, especially when it was surrounded by shrews who barely came up past the badger's waist. "Looks like he's got that entire tribe of Mossflower shrews loading into that merchant ship, along with a score or so of his otters and about that many more of his squirrels. They're loading provisions aboard, too. Definitely gearing up for a voyage."

"Only a score of squirrels?" Korba fretted. "That'll leave nearly their entire strength in the mountain! We would never be able t' overcome defenses like that ... "

"Urthblood is sending us a message. Several, in fact. Leaving so many of his squirrel archers behind to defend his home is his way of telling me, 'Look but don't touch.' But the fact that he is taking his otters with him is undoubtedly meant to reassure us that no attempt will be made to hole or board our vessels while we wait here for his return. An inducement for our patience, if you will. But the biggest message is that ship itself. I assumed he would lead his force overland, down the coast and then inland on foot. But taking that boat will allow him to reach the scene of the battle in a fraction of the time. He might even use it to block Kothar's escape, if he can reach the mouth of that river before Kothar makes it to the open sea in our recovered submersible."

"Assuming he was even successful in seizing that craft at all," Korba said. "For all we know, it might still be in the paws of Urthblood's shrews."

"True. And since we have no idea how soon Urthblood will return, or when our next Fleetrunner might pass this way again, it ties our paws as far as trying to summon reinforcements from Terramort for an assault on Salamandastron, since they almost certainly would not arrive in time. And thus that demon badger again orchestrates events so that all beasts must dance to his tune and no other ... "

"But, if he's keepin' so many of his troops here," Korba wondered, "will he have enough of a force with him to battle Kothar's rats and those rebel shrews?"

"What do you think?" Tratton asked sarcastically. "When has Urthblood ever walked into a situation with less than he needed to prevail? He has yet to make such a misstep, and I very much doubt this will be his first time to do so. He is clearly counting on his shrews to do the bulk of any fighting he encounters - the Mossflower allies you see there on the beach, and his Northland troops who have undoubtedly already engaged our rats. Those twoscore otters and squirrels alone might be enough to wipe out Kothar's team ... which would leave all of his shrews to go after the forces of this renegade Snoga. It will be shrew against shrew - practically a shrew war."

"So, what are we to do, Majesty?"

Tratton swung his spyglass upward to take in the plateau of the mountain fortress. Sure enough, dozens of the gulls sat lined up along the seaward edge of the crater rim, overlooking the three searat ships riding at anchor below them. A show of force as unmistakable as any Tratton had ever beheld. Those seabirds could unleash total destruction upon the _Darksky_ and _Wavestrike_ at a moment's notice ... but, if Tratton went against Urthblood's bidding and broke from these negotiations to return to Terramort, those same gulls could carry this war to him at sea, burning more of his ships and perhaps someday even appearing over his island stronghold and dropping something far worse than mere flaming oil and flesh-searing corrosive. Urthblood had him by the tail, and he knew exactly how to play the Searat King.

"We will play the badger's game, Korba. We will wait, and see what comes of this situation."

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For a cargo ship, the _Goodwill_ was only of a medium size. As a troop transport, however, it was more than spacious enough for Urthblood's purposes.

By packing themselves not quite shoulder-to-shoulder, the entire force of the Guosim was able to fit down in the cargo hold belowdecks. It was only a slightly tighter squeeze than Cavern Hole where they spent their winters, and since Ramjohn's last delivery had consisted of a wide variety of foodstuffs as well as a shipment of spices and perfume, the hold carried a lingering fragrance more appealing than it often did.

"Mmm ... I c'n smell fresh pears an' cinnamon, Dad!" Pirkko said to Log-a-Log after one particularly huge inhalation. "Makin' me hungry!"

The Guosim leader grinned in the steamy dimness and ruffled his son's headfur. "Yeah, it's almost as tantalizin' as a Redwall breakfast, ain't it? Too bad a beast can't eat an aroma, eh? Unfortunately, th' way we're all crammed in here, I'm afraid you'll be smellin' naught but shrews 'fore too much longer. Kinda makes y' wish it weren't high summer, don't it? But not t' worry - with a fresh wind fillin' our sails an' a capable seamaster like Ramjohn at th' helm, Lord Urthblood'll have us where we're goin' 'fore ya know it!"

Pirkko's expression of childlike wonder turned more somber. "Are we goin' t' war, Dad?"

Log-a-Log laid an earnest paw on the youth's shoulder. "Yah, that we may be, lad. But it ain't t' fight Lord Urthblood's battle for 'im. Searats're bad 'nuff, no denyin', an' I do owe that badger a debt fer rescuin' you from those seavermin last summer. It's Snoga that makes this our fight too. After what he did at Foxguard, an' now this attack on Urthblood's shrews, that rabble-rouser's proven himself a menace to all th' lands. Assaultin' Redwallers, even! He came from our own ranks, him an' most o' his followers, so that makes this Guosim business. This'll be settled when that villain tastes a little shrew-style justice!"

"Am I gonna hafta fight too?"

Log-a-Log heard the hesitance in the shrewchild's voice. He knew Pirkko worshipped him as a father, and would pick up a sword to stand at his side in battle if the shrew chieftain encouraged him to do so. But Pirkko was still too much of a youngling to take part in what could be a messy war, lacking any real military training outside of clacking wooden swords with Droge on Redwall's lawns. He hadn't even been presented with his own shortsword yet, and probably wouldn't for another few seasons. Then again, war sometimes made youngbeasts grow up faster than they should.

"Don't reckon it'll come t' that, Pirk," Log-a-Log reassured him. "Let's see what's waitin' fer us when we get t' Doublegate. Lord Urthblood'll decide what's to be done then."

"I hope Mista Lorr's all right," Pirkko worried. "I like him. He's zany."

"I'm sure that genius loon's just fine, son. Aloof beasts like Lorr don't often find trouble. Bet he could stroll right through a latrine an' not get a bit o' muck on 'im!"

"Eeww!"

Up on the wheeldeck, meanwhile, Urthblood stood alongside Ramjohn as the seasoned nautical mouse piloted his vessel south along the coast. A stiff breeze blew in off the ocean, but Ramjohn's sailing expertise told him how to set his canvases to capture those winds and let him tack swiftly perpendicular to those brisk air currents. Under his skilled paw, the _Goodwill_ practically skipped along the wavetops, making swift headway toward her destination.

"I appreciate your cooperation and your assistance, Captain," the badger rumbled over the slap of surf against the hull and the creak of mast and rigging. "It was vital that I reach the scene of this battle as quickly as I may. My otter captain Saybrook knows his way around sails and rudders quite well himself, but nobeast can get the most out of a vessel like the creature who has been her master for many seasons."

"I wasn't gonna let the _Goodwill_ go off without me," Ramjohn replied. "She's been my livelihood nearly all my adult life, an' the only home I've known during most of that time too. Wish I coulda brought along th' rest of my crew too, but we couldn'ta squeezed 'em in with a prybar! Do you reckon they'll be alright back at Salamandastron?"

"I cannot imagine anyplace they would be safer. Tratton knows it would be both foolish and futile to try anything. He would need several times his current forces to seriously challenge my defenses, and even then my gulls could probably burn their ships out from under them before they could get anywhere near shore to land their fighters. But, it is my hope to return well before he has any opportunity to summon such additional naval support."

"You must be very optimistic about how quickly you'll be able to handle this trouble with your shrews," Ramjohn commented.

"It is not my shrews which must be handled. Snoga will soon learn that he has committed one transgression too many against me, and what it means to be my enemy."

"Yeah, I've no doubt his band of troublemakers'll be no match for your forces an' the Guosim together. But what about Tratton? If his rats were part of this attack on your shrew fort, surely that puts an end to any peace talks between you an' the searats?"

"On the contrary, Captain. I have no way of knowing whether Tratton was in communication with his forces so far to the south, or if he was even aware of what they were planning. If they acted on their own, their actions need not impact these negotiations. Indeed, they may even give me greater leverage than I had before. We shall just have to wait and see what transpires from all of this."

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For the rest of that day, it almost seemed Urthblood had the command of the winds and weather and tides at his beck and call. The _Goodwill_ found a coastal current flowing southward as strongly as the Roaringburn ever did, delivering them by midafternoon to the mouth of the river they sought. Turning from the oceanic stream, Ramjohn aimed his ship straight inland and up the river. It was here that the prevailing easterly breezes blowing in off the sea fully caught the cargo vessel's sails back-on, billowing the canvas outward to strain every line and propel the _Goodwill_ up the broadstream as if the opposing flow was not even there. If these waters had been perfectly still, their party could not have made better time.

Even as they gained the river, the incredible smoke column rising from Doublegate's wreckage was clearly visible from the _Goodwill_'s deck. "By the fates!" Ramjohn muttered, minding the wheel to keep the craft centered upon the watercourse as best he could. "It must be like all the forests of the lands are burning in one spot!"

Urthblood nodded. "A vast amount of wood went into Doublegate's construction. I suspect it may burn well into tomorrow."

"Looks like it's still a fair distance away too. Don't know how much further inland I'll be able t' take you 'fore we scrape bottom or the river narrows too much for us to get through ... "

"This river is deeper than it looks," Urthblood responded. "The searat ship I captured last summer can hold over a score of beasts, and it was able to penetrate far upstream while staying completely underwater. The _Goodwill_ might not be able to deliver us to Doublegate's doorstep, but she should get us most of the way there. If you should run aground, there is more than enough muscle power here to pull you free. But I suspect we will be halted by overhanging trees long before that becomes a danger. The deeper woods of south Mossflower were never meant to accommodate tall-masted boating traffic."

The badger's words proved almost prophetic. By late afternoon, they'd put behind them the open plains and entered the shadowy realm of Mossflower's fastness. After the third major snag of the trimmed sails on protruding branches, Ramjohn called for anchor to be dropped.

"I'm sorry, M'Lord," the mouse captain said to Urthblood, "but if I trim the sails back any more'n I already have I might as well not have any canvas up at all. The _Goodwill_'s an oceangoin' sailing vessel, with no rowing galley, an' she's way too big to be poled upstream. Looks like this's as far as I can take you."

"Then it shall have to be good enough." Urthblood gazed eastward, but the dense woodlands now hid the smoke column that marked their destination. "You have done well, Captain, and you shall henceforth have the gratitude of Salamandastron."

One of the longer gangplanks was extended from the _Goodwill'_s port side to the north riverbank, and Urthblood led ten of his Gawtrybe archers and the entire body of the Guosim across the walkway onto dry land. The Badger Lord paused there, calling back to the trader mouse.

"I would ask that you remain here, Captain. I have my reasons. I have left you my otters and half my squirrels for protection, in case any enemy forces should remain in the area. I expect to return by midmorning. I will see you then."

And with that, Urthblood and the Guosim disappeared into the evening forest, snaking their way along the riverbank toward Doublegate ... or what was left of it.

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The velvet mantle of full night had fallen upon the lands by the time Urthblood reached the shattered remnants of his shrews' riverside fort. In contrast to the night before, no clouds obscured the heavens, allowing the moon and stars to shine forth brightly. It was by this pale glow that the badger warrior and his Gawtybe and Guosim followers beheld the ruins that had been Doublegate.

Log-a-Log could not stifle his gasp. Unlike Urthblood and the squirrel archers, he and his shrews had seen the Northland shrews' garrison when it was well along in its construction, and so the Mossflower wanderers could perhaps appreciate the dimensions of what had been lost better than their companions, even if the badger had been the one to design this stronghold. The fires had in all but a few places died down to smoldering piles of charred wood and ash, but the hanging pall of acrid smoke could be smelled almost from the time they'd left the _Goodwill_. Even with just the moonlight by which to see, its wan shafts shadowed by the occasional billow of rising smoke, Log-a-Log could discern enough of the scene to be appalled by the extent of the destruction that met his watery eyes.

Altidor and Klystra met their badger master at the western edge of the clearing around the collapsed and burning fort. Tardo stood by their side, having been notified by the two raptors to expect Urthblood at any time.

"My Lord, thank fur ye're here! It's ... it's a disaster!"

"So I see. And how was this allowed to happen, Captain?"

"Um ... well, they hit us by surprise, M'Lord! Nobeast could've foreseen an alliance 'tween Snoga an' th' searats!"

"Quite possible, since even I did not foresee such a development. Go on."

"Well, we figgered that if Snoga ever dared show his face in these parts again, he'd pull somethin' like 'ee tried at Foxguard, an' we were more'n ready t' meet that kinda threat, with daily patrols through th' nearer woods on all sides an' walltop lookouts day 'n' night, rain or shine, jus' like you ordered, M'Lord. An' we never figgered on searats comin' this far inland wi' that new weapon o' theirs - we assumed th' otters downriver would give us warning if those seascum ever tried sailin' up this way, even if they used another of them underwater iron ships o' theirs. But, um, it looked like there may've been otters 'mongst th' force that attacked us, so I don't know how much we c'n count on th' waterdogs 'round here fer help."

"Otters, attackin' shrews?" Log-a-Log declared. "Th' Guosim's prob'ly crossed paths with most of the otter holts in Mossflower at one time or 'nother, an' I can't 'magine any of 'em sinkin' so low that they'd team up with Snoga ... an' certainly not with searats!"

"It is a possibility we shall have to keep in mind," said Urthblood, "although at the moment it is neither searats nor otters which concerns me primarily." He looked to Klystra. "What news of Snoga, Captain?"

"Still on river going east when daylight failed," the falcon reported. "Saugus tracks him now. We will relieve him in morning."

"Is there any sign of what his destination might be?"

Altidor answered. "There is a vast body of water farther to the east, My Lord - not the sea, but larger than any lake I have ever seen. Its shimmering filled nearly the entire horizon, and we could not see to its far shore. It appears that Snoga is making for that lake. If he travels straight through the night without stopping for rest, he could reach it as early as tomorrow."

"I've heard stories of that big inland lake," Log-a-Log said to Urthblood, "an' it's as big as those birds say it is, an' then some. If Snoga gets out on it, we'll never catch 'im!"

"On the contrary," the badger begged to differ, "as long as he stays to the water, my birds will be able to track him. It is only if he takes to the land and attempts to lose himself in the wilds of lower Mossflower that he will stand any chance of eluding us. I hope he does not realize this before we are able to confront him."

"Confront 'im how?" the Guosim leader asked. "With no boats of our own, we'll never be able t' catch up with his mangy crew! He's already got a big head start, an' it's only gettin' bigger while we're standin' here!"

"And what would you have me do, friend Log-a-Log? Accept these losses and give up on Snoga as being beyond my reach?"

"Um ... wasn't sayin' that, M'Lord," the shrew chieftain mumbled.

"There are things which must be addressed here before we can press on with our pursuit." Urthblood returned his gaze to Tardo. "What is the status of your dead and wounded, Captain?"

"We're still gettin' th' graves dug, M'Lord. We got nearly two hundred of our mates t' bury, an' that's not countin' th' ones who got blown t' bits by that searat explodin' stuff. We're still gatherin' up paws 'n' tails 'n' scraps that don't bear thinkin' 'bout. Just one or two pits ain't gonna be enuff. We're all dead on our footpaws an' could sure use some help with that."

"Of course. Log-a-Log, would your Guosim be willing to take over these burial duties in relief of my shrews? It would assist us greatly."

"Aye, M'Lord. Anything we can do t' help. Just show us where t' dig, an' we'll get right to it."

Pirkko stepped forward. "Where's Mista Lorr?"

Tardo turned a sorrowful gaze toward the youngster, remembering how fond the shrewchild was of the eccentric bankvole. "We ain't been able t' find him, lad. Some o' my shrews seemed t' think he might've been out in th' searat ship when the attack started, but nobeast knows fer sure. If Lorr was still in that vessel when Snoga got to it ... " Tardo shook his head.

"Lorr was a Redwaller, working for me here at my request," Urthblood said to his shrew captain. "His safety was charged to you. When the assault began, he was one of the very first things you should have seen to."

Tardo shrugged in resignation. "It all happened too fast, M'Lord."

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you did the best you could, under the circumstances. Now, as to your wounded ... "

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The Guosim toiled until after midnight getting the Northland shrew casualties laid to their final rest, while Urthblood and his Gawtrybe squirrels (who had been paw-picked by the Badger Lord as much for their healing talents as their archery skills) saw to the most grievously injured of Tardo's shrews. Log-a-Log recognized a few of Snoga's shrews lying amongst the slain, identifying them by their colored headbands and traditional Guosim garb; the few Northlanders still assisting with the burial duties advised that any enemy corpses should simply be cast upon the flames of whatever parts of Doublegate still burned. Log-a-Log had no problem with this, in spite of the fact that most of these "enemy" had once ranked among his own tribe.

The fires had by now found every part of Doublegate's inner wall, and what had not yet collapsed stood engulfed in flames. Not a single stretch of ramparts remained from which to stand watch - not that there was anything left worth standing watch over. Tardo had long since evacuated all of his surviving troops from the courtyard of the burning garrison, and now they lay about in the clearing beyond the wreckage, receiving treatment for their hurts or simply surrendering to exhaustion.

The Guosim soon slumbered right alongside them, with only a token guard posted to take the night's watch, since it seemed their enemies were now on the run. Urthblood, as was his unearthly custom, did not indulge in so much as a wink of sleep, striding to and fro across the site or standing at various points along the perimeter, staring into the summer nighttime forest or down into the dark waters where his prized capture from four seasons earlier now lay in its shallowly-flowing grave.

Come first light, Urthblood called Tardo and Log-a-Log to him. The badger had just taken the overnight report of Captain Saugus, while Altidor and Klystra had flown out to take over the monitoring of Snoga's fleeing forces from the tired owl. Armed with the information he needed to make his next move, Urthblood laid out his plans to the two shrews.

"Snoga remains on the river, and still appears to be making for the big inland lake to the east. However, the possibility exists that he might abandon the waterways before then. If he does, we have no way of knowing whether he will land his fleet on the north banks or the south ... or perhaps even both. Therefore, we have no choice but to keep our own forces divided, to be prepared for every contingency. Captain Tardo, you will lead your remaining able-bodied fighters east along this side of the river. Those who are too badly injured to fight will accompany me and the Guosim back to the _Goodwill_, where they will stay to recuperate. Litters have already been prepared for the most seriously wounded. Once we have left them in the care of Captain Ramjohn, Log-a-Log and I will cross on the trader ship to the south banks, where most of my squirrels and otters will join the Guosim in accompanying me east on that side of the river. Wait here until you see us on the opposite banks, then we will proceed forward together."

"Aye, but, um ... won't all that backtrackin' an waitin' put us even further b'hind Snoga?" Tardo worried.

"Altidor and Klystra will alert me immediately of any change in Snoga's strategy. In the meantime, this is what we must do. As long as we know where Snoga is, we can catch up to him in our own time. He cannot run forever."


	2. Chapter 114

Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen

Slowed as they were by the wounded shrews, it took most of the morning for Urthblood and the Guosim to reach the _Goodwill_. Ramjohn's eyes widened at the sight of so many injured warriors; having never witnessed any kind of major battle himself, the trader mouse was not fully prepared for the number and scope of bodily damages he beheld now. Ramjohn helped get them all settled in, then Urthblood assigned a skeleton crew of a dozen squirrels to remain with the merchant ship to help tend the wounded and defend the vessel.

The long gangplank was moved from the port to the starboard side, and the Badger Lord's force filed down onto the south banks. Urthblood waited until the last had disembarked, then turned to Ramjohn.

"I must ask your forbearance once more, Captain. Once my business with Snoga is concluded, I will wish to return to Salamandastron as quickly as I may. Please wait here for me. Hopefully you will see me again before too many more days have passed. I will try to have my birds keep you appraised of my progress, if they can be spared."

"I'll do as you ask," the mouse said. "Heck, I've come with you this far, so might as well see this through to the end, huh?"

"Again, you have my deepest gratitude. Until I return then, Captain." Urthblood ambled down the gangplank to join the others on the shore; although the wood walkway sagged under his armored bulk, it did not give way, and moments later the badger stood on dry land amidst the Guosim and his squirrels and otters. Striding to the forefront of the large group, Urthblood struck off into the forest to the east, his soldiers and allies forming up into a long marching column as they followed after him.

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Another beast might have collapsed by now, but the single-minded purpose that drove Hanchett on did not allow for the minor inconveniences of fatigue or hunger.

For one entire day and night the hare had maintained his dogged pursuit of the riverborne shrews, racing silently through the woods to match their pace and never allowing them out of his sight for more than a few moments at a time. The only indulgences he allowed himself were the occasional trip to the waterside after the logboats has passed so he could quench his parched throat with a few sips, and the infrequent grazing upon edible herbs and bushes that happened to lie along his path. These momentary delays never waylaid him for more than a few heartbeats, and then he would resume his relentless chase.

Now, well into the second day of his surveillance, Hanchett ignored the burning in his weary leg muscles and the various scrapes and abrasions his abused footpaws were accumulating, as well as the emptiness that increasingly gnawed at his stomach. He still didn't have any weapon, but that wouldn't matter as long as he was on land and his quarry stayed to the river. For now, he would be content to shadow them for as long as he could, ideally tracking them all the way back to whatever secret lair had served as the villains' hiding place this last half season. These shrews couldn't stay on the water forever (could they?), and the moment he and they were on equal footing, Hanchett did not doubt he would be able to easily slay one or two of them and take their weapons for his own. Until then, if he had to subsist on snatched pawfuls of water, plucked leaves and berries and no sleep whatsoever, so be it. This was still a Redwall stroll compared to what he'd been through the summer before during the battle at Salamandastron.

The otters worried him just a little. Hanchett had gotten enough looks at the logboats and their passengers to verify that several of the muscular waterbeasts numbered among the company of the renegade shrews. How they had come to fall in with the likes of Snoga he couldn't imagine, but from what he saw they didn't seem to be there under duress, so Hanchett had to assume the otters would resist him every bit as much as Snoga's shrews would. Sure, he'd come out on top in his scuffle with Kurdyla, but that berserker had been unarmed, and his rage had made him sloppy. Hanchett didn't favor his chances against armed and ready river otters, especially if he had to end up taking on more than one at a time. He decided he would avoid them if he could.

The forest grew denser and the waterways more complex as they ventured farther east into the heart of lower Mossflower. The river split several times, but fortunately the logboats kept to the southern forks, enabling Hanchett to continue his pursuit without becoming stranded by the topography, forced to stand and watch helplessly as his quarry paddled their way up a northern branch of the river system and away from him. Twice he found his way blocked by feeder brooks that cut across his path, but even in this his luck held: one creek was so narrow that he cleared it in one running bound, while the other, too wide to jump, he crossed with the aid of a fallen tree that spanned it, which he located with just a minimal amount of searching along its banks. Neither delayed him to any great degree, and he was always able to get back to the main river in plenty of time to keep the retreating logboat flotilla well within his sight.

How much longer would this chase go on, and where would it ultimately lead? These questions barely impinged upon Hanchett's awareness as he pushed his way through the thick woods and underbrush and the increasingly swampy terrain. His existence had boiled down to a series of unconnected moments, for this was the only way he could continue to function through the gathering haze of exhaustion and sleeplessness. He could not think of what had gone before or where he had just been, nor could he dwell upon what might lie ahead. The world was now one step at a time, one foot in front of the other, moment to moment, until his prey gave him cause to rest ... or to fight. No matter how tired Hanchett grew, he knew that when the time came, his Long Patrol training and battle fervor would carry him through.

After all, he only had to kill but a single beast. It was getting through all the others to get to Snoga that would pose the real challenge.

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Urthblood set a brisk pace through the riverside forest, one that had the shorter-legged shrews half-running to keep up. The Guosim didn't mind at all; the faster they moved now, the sooner they would meet up with Snoga and settle that murderous shrew's account once and for all.

They reached the banks opposite the ruins of Doublegate while it was still early in the afternoon. The badger called his column to a halt and waved to Tardo's waiting force across the broadstream, indicating that they would not be getting underway immediately. While the others waited, Urthblood and two of the more experienced tracker squirrels in their company conducted a meticulous survey of the ground where Kothar's catapults had been emplaced two nights before.

"No doubt about it," one of the Gawtrybe said to his badger master. "There were definitely heavy siege weapons here - catapults or trebuchets would be my guess, and two by the look of it - and the pawprints are clearly those of rats. At least a score, maybe twice that. No smaller tracks, so it doesn't appear that any of Snoga's shrews were ever on this side of the river. Um, we did find what look like the prints of a solitary hare leading off to the east, but that creature could have happened upon this spot after the searats had left, or perhaps he was scared away by them. They pulled back straight to the south. Their path's pretty clear, as you'd expect it to be, hauling two big weapons like that through these woods."

Urthblood stood staring southward in silence for many long moments, wordlessly contemplating the path taken by the departed searats.

"Are we gonna go after 'em, M'Lord?" inquired Captain Saybrook, the senior officer of Urthblood's soldiers here. "Mebbe find out from 'em whether they were workin' on their own or under Tratton's orders?"

The red-armored warrior shook his head. "No. Burdened as they are by such heavy equipment, their progress cannot help but be slow. There will be time to deal with them later, if I decide they are to be dealt with. Snoga is our first priority now." Urthblood turned to his otter captain. "Before we move on, however, there is one other matter we must see to."

The otters had brought with them another new invention of Urthblood's. In light of the armored defender submersibles Tratton was now using, and the increased likelihood that Saybrook's squad might be called upon to carry out underwater missions against the searat foe day or night and under all manner of weather conditions, the Badger Lord had decided that some kind of underwater lamp would benefit them greatly. After much experimentation, he'd devised a glow lantern based on phosphorescent rocks mined from the natural caverns deep within Salamandastron, and the bioluminescent tissue of certain forms of sea life. The light they cast was very dim, but if the otters found themselves working in environments that would otherwise be utterly dark, it would at least provide them the bare minimum by which they could see to work.

The prototype underwater lamps were now distributed to chosen members of Saybrook's squad, including the otter captain himself. "Swim down for a look in and around the searat vessel," Urthblood instructed them. "Tell me just how extensive the damage is, and whether you deem there might be any hope of salvaging it at all. I also want you to look for bodies. Some of Captain Tardo's shrews seemed to think the bankvole Lorr may have been down in that vessel when it was attacked. If he was, I would like verification."

Saybrook nodded solemnly. "Aye, M'Lord." Standing a short way behind him, Pirkko sniffed, and Log-a-Log placed a comforting paw around his son's shoulder.

"If the interior has been flooded," Urthblood continued, "we can safely assume that all of the lamps down there have been extinguished, so unless the hull has split open wide enough to admit sunlight, you will definitely need the glow lamps you brought with you to examine the interior of the craft. Go now, and tell me what you can."

While half a dozen of the otters applied themselves to a painstaking inspection of the sunken vessel's exterior - which, on this sunny day, they performed without the aid of their phosphorescent lanterns - Saybrook led two others through the top hatch and into the vehicle, bearing two lamps apiece for maximum illumination. Only their natural otter's ability allowed them to hold their breath long enough to venture into such an uncertain and potentially hazardous underwater situation without fear of drowning before their mission was even halfway accomplished.

The otter captain re-emerged after only a short time within the wreck and hauled himself up onto the banks where Urthblood and the others awaited. Shaking the excess water from his pelt and tunic, Saybrook reported, "Don't think there's anything we'll be able t' do with that bucket, M'Lord. She's split in a dozen diff'rent places, an' all th' gadgets an' gizmos that made 'er run are in pieces. Looks like some giant picked her up an gave her a good shake t' scramble her all up inside. 'Bout all she's good fer now is a grave ... uh, speakin' o' which ... " He reached into his soggy vest and withdrew a small item which he somberly presented to Log-a-Log. "Sorry 'bout yore friend, matey."

The shrew chieftain took the object from the otter and regarded it with a sorrowful gaze. The simple metal frame was half-twisted, and the lenses were gone, but Lorr's spectacles were still unmistakable.

"Those villains!" Log-a-Log spat. "Snoga's gone too far this time, allying himself with searats an' slayin' a decent creature like Lorr who never harmed a soul an' only wanted t' make th' world a better place with his inventions! This's personal now! If I ever get my paws around that scoundrel's neck, I'll throttle 'im 'til his rot-brained head falls off!"

"Snoga's death is certain," Urthblood vowed. "But what form that final battle takes, or which beast's paw shall deal him the fatal blow, has not yet been revealed to me."

Log-a-Log sought to calm himself, more for his son's sake than anything, since he could see that Pirkko was clearly distraught by this confirmation of Lorr's death. "Uh, any chance you could bring Lorr up here so's we can give 'im th' proper burial he deserves?"

"Not meanin' t' be ghoulish, matey, but there really ain't enuff left o' yore buddy t' make it worth bringin' up. T'was all I could do just t' find his spectacles. That iron tub's gonna be his tomb henceforth, like it or not."

Pirkko hugged his father, burying his tear-stained face in Log-a-Log's chest. The older shrew consoled his son as best he could through his own grief.

The other otters were all soon back ashore, confirming their captain's assessment of the damaged ship's condition. Concluding that nothing more was to be done here, Urthblood spurred his twin armies into motion once more, signaling to his Northland shrews to move out even as he issued those same marching orders to his more immediate troops and the Guosim. With Tardo's forces covering the north banks and the badger's taking the south, the matched columns snaked their way east into the forest, pushing forward toward their inevitable rendezvous with the murderous shrew outlaw and his band.

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The westering sun behind them cast long shadows out onto the lake as Snoga's lead boats broke past the headwaters of the broadstream and paddled their way out onto the calmer surface of the inland sea. The main flotilla had yet to catch up with them, since Snoga too had insisted they row straight through the night to escape any possible pursuit. Now, drifting aimlessly upon the placid waters, the bone-weary rowers shipped their oars across their legs and caught their breaths.

"Good work, shrews!" Snoga congratulated his comrades as the other logboats circled around his. "We left our enemies far behind, chokin' on th' smoke from their own fort! Now, we'll just wait here 'til Kellom an' th' rest catch up. They can't be trailin' us by too much ... "

"But, Chief," said a shrew named Anoop seated in the stern of Snoga's boat, "we don't know what kinda trouble they may've run inta from Urthblood's shrews. Could be they got bogged down in battle, an' might not've been able t' get away right away."

"Aw, we left those Northland trespassers so rattled an' thunderstruck they prob'ly couldn'ta fought their way outta a dinghy! Our lads'll handle 'em just fine. In fact, I'll wager you my dinner rations they'll be here 'fore sundown!"

"Will th' rats be with 'em?" asked another shrew from a boat alongside Snoga's.

"Yeah, what's th' deal with 'em anyway?" Anoop pressed. "Were they our allies or not? I was gettin' confused there ... "

Snoga gave a casual shrug. "Thought I could trust 'em - guess I was wrong. Fer all I know, ev'ry last one of 'em might've been searats in disguise, or workin' fer that seascum. We're better off rid of 'em, now that we've kicked Urthblood's rabble outta Mossflower!"

"But, weren't some o' them rat archers still with our main body guardin' th' north side of that fort? What if they turned on us?"

"Yeah, Boss, an' might they not come after us fer blowin' up their fish-ship? If they was searats, I mean?"

"An' who's t' say we put Urthblood's shrews on th' run t'all? There was still a lot of 'em inside their walls when we left ... an' ain't they s'posed t' be fierce fighters?"

"Aw, shaddup, alla you!" Snoga yelled to silence the sudden chorus of worries inundating him from all sides. "Ye're all soundin' bad as Gomon ever did! Them rats won't be able t' catch us anymore'n Urthblood's shrews will! An' as fer those pushy liddle runts, well o' course we just gave 'em th' boot from these parts! How're they gonna stay with their precious garrison burned down 'round their ears?"

"Well, they did build that first one pretty durned fast," said Anoop. "Who's t' say they won't put up another in its place?"

Snoga fished a hard turnip out of the supply sack at his feet, twisted around in his seat and let the tuber fly with savage accuracy. The vegetable struck Anoop squarely in the forehead, spilling him backward into the water with a splash.

"'Cos if they do, we'll burn it down again!" Snoga spat for the benefit of the other shrews, since the one who'd raised the question was floundering in the lake. "Now haul that worthless piece o' flotsam back aboard, 'fore he drowns!"

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Sunset had given way to the long summer twilight when Hanchett at last approached the shores of the big inland lake. At first - as he had for the duration of his pursuit - the hare had eyes only for the logboat caravan forcing its way up the river. But as both he and his quarry drew nearer the enormous body of water and it became apparent that this was to be their destination, the vastness of the shimmering expanse glinting at him through the trees became impossible to ignore. Hanchett's gaze was drawn increasingly from the flotilla on his left to the veritable sea emerging before him ... and then he skidded to an abrupt halt upon realizing that several of the rough-hewn craft already floated upon the lake a short way from shore, drifting lazily in anticipated rendezvous with their larger following force.

Hanchett quickly retreated farther back into the murk of the evening forest, confident that the two groups of shrews were too preoccupied with greeting each other to have noticed him. That Snoga sat somewhere among that advance party he had no doubt; it would perfectly fit the treacherous and cowardly shrew's personality to have fled the battle before the rest of his gang, leaving them to cover his escape at the expense of their own blood. Not for the first time, Hanchett wondered how any such creature could command the loyalty of so many followers.

The solitary hare hunkered down into the underbrush, mulling over his next move. If they struck out to the south, paralleling the lakeshore, Hanchett knew he could continue shadowing Snoga's force without too much trouble. On the other paw, if they headed north, Hanchett would have a river to cross, and he wasn't sure at all how he would accomplish such a feat. And if they aimed themselves straight out onto the seemingly limitless waters, making perhaps for some far-distant opposite shore, Hanchett would be left no way to follow.

Unless he could get his paws on a boat of his own.

For the moment, he sat tight in his sheltered spot threescore paces from the shoreline, waiting to see what the shrews would do next.

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Kellom nosed his logboat close to Snoga's upon realizing his chieftain sat out upon the lake waiting for them. The shrew leader cast an approving gaze over the crews of the vessels spilling out the river and onto the calmer waters of the inland sea.

"Looks like most ev'rybeast made it," Snoga observed. "Them Northland shrews didn't give ya too much trouble, I take it?"

"We lost a few, Boss, but we musta wiped out half their number," Kellom reported eagerly. "Once the inside o' their fort all caught fire an' started collapsin', they all came spillin' out that north gate like you thought they might. We was all lined up ready 'n' waitin' fer 'em, an' we mowed 'em down fast as they could squeeze outta there! In the end those who were left had no choice but to run back inside their walls. Wouldn't be surprised if the rest of 'em all burned up with their fortress!"

"Good work! An' what about those rats?"

"Told 'em Kothar had sunk that steel ship with one of his own catapult shots, which didn't make 'em too happy, but they'da been a whole lot angrier if they'd known you'd sunk it yerself after that one archer turned out t' be a searat in disguise. Havin' seen 'em shoot, I'd not've wanted t' be on their bad side!"

To the shrews who'd been with Snoga at the searat submarine, all of this came as little or no surprise. For the ones who'd been around on the other side of Doublegate at the time of these events, however, these revelations were eye-openers. Kellom had not revealed to them Glebocka's open declaration to be in the service of Tratton, or that it had been Snoga rather than Kothar who was responsible for the sinking of the coveted ship. But no shrew, not even the normally argumentative Gomon who sat in a nearby boat, raised an objection. If there truly had been searats among Kothar's clan, it was best to be rid of them by whatever misdirection and subterfuge necessary.

"Anyways," Kellom went on, "once th' battle was over an' we got back to th' boats, all they wanted was t' be taken across so they could rejoin Kothar's crew. They asked where their missin' matey was, so I told 'em he was too close to that iron boat when it blew, an' he went down with it. By th' time they hear diff'rent, won't be anything they can do about it."

"Good riddance to 'em!" Snoga declared. "It was gettin' t' where I didn't trust any o' Kothar's lot! So, it doesn't look like anybeast followed you here?"

"Wouldn't say that, Chief ... an' that's where I think we might have a problem." Kellom threw his gaze skyward and pointed up with a paw. "We've had a travel mate ever since mornin', an' don't look like it's goin' nowhere."

Snoga followed his lieutenant's gaze and saw the large raptor circling high against the silver twilight sky. "You say it's been shadowin' you all day?"

"Aye, an' that ain't th' worst of it, Boss. Couple o' times, I could swear I saw two of 'em. Looks like they're tag-teamin' us t' keep us under constant surveillance. They gotta be Urthblood's birds."

"We don't know that fer sure," Snoga curtly bit off, reluctant to concede any complication to his sterling getaway plan.

"You wanna take a chance on that, an' be wrong?" Kellom countered with uncharacteristic bluntness. Clearly, the birds' constant presence had unnerved him.

"Hmm. Okay, here's what we'll do. Beach all th' boats an' pull 'em up under th' trees. No campfires. It'll be full night soon, so we'll rest 'til then, an' set out again under cover of dark. Paddle straight through th' night, in shifts so we can all catch some sleep, an' come daybreak we'll be so far out on this lake that they won't be able t' find us again!"

"But, what if they keep trackin' us at night?"

"They're birds, not bats! Eagles an' their kin ain't made fer seein' in th' dark! Once th' light fails, we'll have th' lake all to ourselves 'til dawn. Even if they do keep followin' us, what're they gonna do about it?"

"If Urthblood's birds're here, maybe he is too," Gomon called across from his boat. "Maybe we shouldn't go ashore, in case he's near. Safer out on th' water ... "

"Aw, that badger's all th' way out on th' coastlands, half a season's march from 'ere!" Snoga scoffed. "He'd not leave his mountain in th' midst of all this trouble he's been havin' with the searats. An' even if he does find out where we been stayin', he's got no navy, no boats of his own, no way t' get to us. An' we got ourselves a nice castle t' help us defend our island! A real castle, not some hollowed-out chunk o' rock like he's got! We'll give death t' anybeast who tries t' storm our shores! Now, let's get these boats up inta th' trees so's we can grab ourselves a decent breather 'fore we get movin' again!"

As they hauled their logboat fleet ashore, the True Guosim failed to notice the lone hare who discreetly shuffled farther back into the forest to avoid discovery, but not so far that he could not still monitor the renegade shrews.

And neither shrews nor hare noticed the silent, blinking figure of Captain Saugus perched high in a nearby ash, overseeing all without betraying his stoic presence.


	3. Chapter 115

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

Urthblood called a halt to the day's march while there was still enough light for Tardo's shrews on the north banks to see him easily. The last thing the badger wanted was for half his army to tramp onward while the other half stopped for the night. Not that there was much danger of this; after the ordeal the Doublegaters had endured, they needed a rejuvenating night's rest as badly as anybeast on this march.

Altidor and Klystra joined the halted soldierbeasts on the ground, now that the gathering darkness rendered their aerial reconnaissance abilities largely ineffective. The two raptors sought out the Badger Lord to make their final report of the day.

"Snoga's forces have reached the big lake," Altidor told Urthblood. "They seem to be reassembling along the shore there."

"Reassembling for what?"

"That was not clear, Lord. They were landing their boats when we left them, so either they plan to camp there until morning, or else take to the forest paths and leave their boats behind. Either way, Captain Saugus will keep an eye on them and let us know where they are come morning."

"Which side of the broadstream did they land on?" Urthblood inquired.

"This side."

"Then we will wait to hear more from Captain Saugus. In the meantime, we will rest until the morning, and replenish our energies for when we will surely need them."

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Hanchett could hardly be blamed for drifting off to sleep as he crouched in his thicket, spying on the True Guosim while they waited out the dimming twilight under the trees along the lake's western shore. After all, he'd been on the run nonstop for a day and a night and then another day, and he'd not gotten much sleep the night of the attack on Doublegate either, so he was well past the point of exhaustion. With all of Snoga's shrews swarming ashore at once and staying together in a tight-knit group - and with those pesky otters still standing tall among them as well - the situation afforded no opportunity for Hanchett to get anywhere near his target. He knew that if he attempted a suicidal charge, he would be slain long before he got anywhere near Snoga. Not even the fullest measure of his Long Patrol stealth would enable him to infiltrate that packed mass of bodies. He was stuck, plain and simple, left no choice but to sit tight and wait for his enemy to make their next move.

No, no ordinary beast would have blamed Hanchett for nodding off under such circumstances, for they would have collapsed long before this point. But the hares of the Long Patrol hardly considered themselves ordinary, and the determination to slay Snoga that burned in Hanchett's breast consumed and outshone all other considerations. And so, as his eyelids grew heavier and he began to sway on his haunches, Hanchett struggled to stave off the inevitable triumph of his fatigue, refusing to surrender to the weariness that would have claimed any other creature by now. Surrender was not an option in this contest, and Hanchett refused to consider any such possibility. Unfortunately, his eyelids had other ideas ...

While Hanchett engaged in his private epic battle against unwanted sleep, the spokesbeast for the otters took Snoga aside. "I unnerstand yore aimin' t' make fer some island that's way out in th' middle o' this lake?"

"That's right," the shrew chieftain replied. "We got a castle out there an' ev'rything. Nobeast'll be able t' touch us once we're there. Why?"

"We ain't sure we're goin' with you."

Snoga's eyes narrowed. "Oh? An' why's that?"

"We ain't exactly happy with th' way this's all gone. You never told us you were gonna use th' kinda weapons you used, or that we'd be massacrin' 'em in a slaughter of an ambush! Shore, we wanted t' give them pushy shrews a black eye, but this ain't what we signed up fer!"

"Oh, really?" Snoga taunted. "Well, then ya shoulda read th' fine print a little better, 'cos I'm in charge 'ere, an' what I say goes! If we hadn'ta used th' weapons an' tactics we did, you'da found t'was us gettin' slaughtered back there! These're Urthblood's troops we're talkin' 'bout - you don't just go playin' pranks on 'em or causin' 'em a little mischief, unless you wanna end up dead! Ya gotta be prepared t' use overwhelmin' force 'gainst 'em, which is what we did. Only language that badger brute an' his thugs understand."

"Well, then mebbe we shouldn't've agreed t' be part o' this t'all. In any case, if we go out to that isle with you, we're stuck there with no way t' get off o' that rock. We ain't shore that's a position we wanna be in."

"It ain't, eh? Well, what're y' gonna do if you don't come with us, huh? I already toldja ye're in this up ta yer muzzles! You slew Urthblood's shrews just like we did, an' that'll make you th' same as us in his eyes. If he ever catches you, this season or ten seasons from now, ye're as good as dead! So stay 'ere if y' want - it's yer funeral!"

"We're otters, matey, not shrews. If we scatter 'n' melt back inta Mossflower, nobeast'll be th' wiser 'bout whether or not we was ever part o' yore rabble."

"Y' think not? What about them birds of Urthblood's that've been followin' us? They saw we made it this far. Come mornin', we'll be far, far away. If they start trackin' again, it'll be from here ... which makes it far more likely they'll pick up th' trail of anybeast who stays ashore rather than those that take to th' water. Now, you still so all-fired certain ya don't wanna come with us?"

The spokesotter and his companions traded uncertain glances. "I ... I guess we're gonna hafta talk this over some more ... "

"Well, talk fast," Snoga said, "'cos we're pushin' off soon as th' stars come out ... an' we'll be leavin' with or without ya!"

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Thunk!

Hanchett's jaw hit the earth with a jarring thud, bringing him instantly awake ... which led him to immediately conclude that he had in fact been asleep, which in turn opened his mental floodgates to release an inner torrent of self-recrimination. The one thing he could not allow to happen, and here he was, dozing like a dunderheaded delinquent while his deadly enemies swarmed upon the lakeshore barely a stone's throw away. He was lucky they hadn't discovered him and slit his throat while he snoozed, or ...

Hanchett's gaze went right to the water's edge. Full night had fallen since his flagging eyelids had last closed, but that did not prevent him from observing that the ground between him and the lake now stood empty and abandoned. Snoga had moved on, and Hanchett had missed it completely.

Before he could berate himself further and descend into a muttered tirade of insults directed at nobeast but himself, Hanchett's ear cocked to the right of his current position, alerted to the sound of voices and beasts moving heavily through the night forest. Creeping out of his brush cover with his practiced tracker's stealth, the hare picked his way between the dark trees toward the noises.

The source of the minor commotion proved to be a trio of otters, making no attempt to conceal their passage as they marched inland away from the big lake. Hanchett fell into step alongside them, shadowing the waterbeasts without revealing his own presence. His proximity allowed him to overhear every word of their conversation.

"D' you reckon Snoga might've been right 'bout Urthblood's birds bein' able t' track us?"

"Wouldja rather be stuck out on that island o' his, in th' midst of these endless waters an' nowhere t' go if that badger ever did come knockin'?"

"But, Urthblood ain't got boats o' his own. Wouldn't that make an isle th' safest place t' be?"

"He's a Badger Lord! Don't y' think he'd be able t' build 'imself some boats if he hadta? 'Sides, would _you_ really wanna be stranded on that rock, mebbe fer th' next season or two, with nobeasts but Snoga an' his gang fer company?"

"Aye, I know whatcha mean. Had all o' that deceitful, treacherous runt I c'n stomach meself. Gettin' us mixed up with searats, usin' their weapons 'gainst their fellow shrews - they're ev'ry bit as bad as Urthblood's bunch!"

"If not worse. I'm glad t' be rid o' them ruffians, even if it mightn't be as safe fer us on land as it would've been on water. Don't reckon that bent-whiskered bully could tell th' straight truth if an honest beast chewed it up an' stuck th' words in his mouth for 'im!"

"I still say we should be makin' fer that tribe o' shrews jus' to th' south o' here. We could get ourselves a boat, provisions, go where we please ... "

"Already toldja, matey - they know us there, an' know we were workin' with Snoga 'n' would've been part o' his attack on Urthblood's shrew fort. Word gets out that us three're on our own, an' that badger might just hunt us down fer th' rest o' our days. Better t' slip away without bein' seen, settle down in some neck o' Mossflower where we ain't known, an' pretend we was never part o' what went on here. Might even be a good idea fer us three t' split up an' make like soli'try wanderers, once we're away from 'ere a ways ... "

Hanchett drew to a halt, letting the otter trio recede into the night. He wasn't interested in pursuing them further, not after what he'd just overheard. The Long Patrol hare crouched there alone in the deserted woodlands, the trill and chirring of the nocturnal insect serenade his only companion, and mulled over what he had learned from the chattering otters. So, Snoga sought refuge on an island in the middle of this gigantic lake, did he? Probably where he'd been hiding ever since his flight from Foxguard ... which would account for why he seemed to have vanished from the face of Mossflower for awhile. And, there was a tribe of lakeshore shrews a little way to the south of here - shrews who would have boats.

"I'm no fish," Hanchett muttered to himself as he retraced his steps toward the water. "Won't jolly well be able t' keep after Snoga unless I get m'self a boat ... so let's see about doin' just that, wot?"

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While most of his troops and the Guosim slumbered on either side of the river, Urthblood sat upon a mossy tuffet staring into the night, searching the distance with his far-seeing eye for any hint of what the future might hold. His soldiers knew better than to approach him at such times, but when the owl captain Saugus alighted on the streambank requesting an audience with the Badger Lord, nobeast was going to delay in showing the nocturnal scout to the brooding warlord.

Captain Saybrook ushered the nightbird to Urthblood, then stood by as Saugus made his report.

"My Lord, Snoga has taken to the lake, making straight out onto it. His fleet is now well out onto the waters, and shows no sign of turning to the north or south. I can only assume he means to row across to the opposite shore, and waited until cover of darkness thinking that would hide his departure from your eyes."

"You do not believe you were seen?" Urthblood asked.

"I do not. Almost certainly they spotted Altidor and Klystra, but I took great care not to reveal myself. I suspect Snoga feels he made his getaway unobserved, and will have left us mystified as to his whereabouts."

"Will he reach the other side of the lake by morning?"

"My Lord, that lake is so vast I could not see the far shore myself. I think it will surely take them two days to cross it, although that does appear to be their goal."

Urthblood nodded. "Then we will wait until morning as planned, and see how the situation stands then. Return to your surveillance, Captain Saugus. Follow them well until daybreak, in case they have any trickery in mind. Altidor and Klystra will relieve you in the morning, once they have had their full measure of rest for the night."

"Yes, My Lord." The owl sauntered back to the riverbank, spread his wings and launched himself into the air to resume his reconnaissance. Saybrook looked to Urthblood, concerned.

"What does it matter if it takes that renegade one night or three days t' cross th' lake, M'Lord? If that pond's as big as our birds've made it out t' be, it'll take us 'til summer's end t' go around it one way or the other. Snoga'll have all th' time in th' world t' lose 'imself in whatever wilds lie on the other side. Not even our eagle-eyed birds'll be able t' track 'em if they take to thick woods, or mebbe some underground caverns. There had t' be _some_ reason Klystra couldn't find Snoga's gang after the attack on Foxguard. P'raps they've got some hidey hole nobeast else knows about, where it'll be impossible t' turn 'em up. Hate the idea o' that bunch gettin' clean away from us a second time ... "

"That will not happen, Captain," Urthblood proclaimed with utmost assurance. "He will pay for what he has done, and his threat will be removed from the lands. I will not return to Salamandastron until this is done. And although my vision into future events has not revealed to me the exact manner in which this conflict will be resolved, I feel certain that Snoga's end lies only days away."

"I shore hope so, sir," the otter captain shrugged, "tho' I don't see how, unless we all grow wings so's we can catch up ta him."

Urthblood stared past Saybrook into the depths of the night. "Perhaps that is precisely what we shall do, Captain."

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Morning broke clear and bright over lower Mossflower - a dawn that saw Snoga's logboat fleet far from shore even as the forces of his badger pursuer stirred themselves for another day's relentless marching. While a fairly respectable distance still separated them - a distance which was, in fact, growing greater with each passing moment - this day was not to be without its share of developments.

After fishing for their breakfast from the river, Klystra and Altidor took off into the silver-turning-to-blue skies to relieve Saugus in the surveillance of the fleeing shrews. Saugus returned to Urthblood's campsite as the Northlanders and Guosim finished their own morning meals and geared up for the resumption of their chase.

The nightbird stood flexing his wings and ruffling his plumage for several moments before launching into his report. "Glad those other two came when they did - I was just about out of flaps. We owls aren't made for extended periods of gliding the way falcons and eagles are!"

"Will that be a problem if you have to perform another night's reconnaissance over the lake?" Urthblood asked. "I do not wish to unduly strain you."

"That should not be a problem, Lord, since I will have someplace to perch when I next fly out to monitor them."

The badger raised an eyebrow, while Saybrook and Log-a-Log looked on in puzzlement. "Explain, Captain."

"Snoga is not making for the opposite shore at all," said Saugus, "but rather for an isle which lies nearly at the very center of the lake, far from any other land. It is a large island, with a sizable castle overlooking a courtyard on the northern side, and farmlands and forested mountains covering the southern half. There can be no mistake that that is their destination."

Log-a-Log slapped a paw against his forehead. "O' course - Castle Marl! 'Member hearin' stories 'bout that place at Redwall. Should've guessed, soon as I heard Snoga was makin' for that big lake, that that's what he might've had in mind. Prob'ly where he's been hidin' his worthless hide this past half-season, since most beasts don't even know 'bout it an' those that do wouldn't risk tryin' t' get out to it. 'Tis said that in rough weather, that lake is well-nigh impassable, cutting that isle off from th' rest o' th' world, even the winged folk."

Urthblood looked to the shrew chieftain. "What more can you tell me about this castle?"

Log-a-Log shrugged. "Never really been sure 'til now that it wasn't mostly legend, or if t'was even still standing. Th' Marlfoxes it's named for died out a long, long time ago, or so 'tis said. 'Fraid there's nothin' I could tell ya 'bout that place that yer birds couldn't tell ya better ... "

"Don't see how this helps us any," Saybrook commented. "We still don't have any boats of our own. If Snoga puts 'imself out in th' middle of a lake it takes days t' cross, he's where we can't get at him, an' he knows it."

"On the contrary, this is far better news than if he were making for the far shore," Urthblood told his otter captain. "Snoga is counting on the expanses of water surrounding his hideout to prove an uncrossable barrier to any pursuers, when in fact it works against him just as much. Once he is on that island he will be trapped there, with no place else he can go. It may take us awhile to get to him, but we can rest assured that he will be there waiting for us when we arrive. That island is about to become his prison, whether he realizes it or not ... and soon it will be his tomb as well."

"One other thing, Lord," Saugus said to Urthblood. "It seems we are not the only ones chasing Snoga. A lone hare in a smaller logboat is rowing after them as well, about half a day - or night - behind them."

"A hare?"

"Yes, My Lord. I had observed him previously in some nearby bushes, watching Snoga's forces while they waited for nightfall on the shore, but I assumed he was just a curious localbeast. When Klystra joined me this morning he told me it appears to be that Long Patrol hare from Redwall whom he was helping to track Snoga after the incident at Foxguard. It would seem that beast has not given up on his quest for the enemy shrew either."

"Aye, but how'd he get ahead of us?" Saybrook wondered.

"Remember those hare tracks we saw in the woods across from Doublegate," Urthblood reminded the otter commander. "Hanchett must have already been on this side of the river hunting Snoga. Perhaps he even witnessed the attack, although he would of course have been powerless to stop it. But, where did he get a boat?"

"I cannot say, Lord," Saugus admitted. "It appeared that three or four of the otters in Snoga's company had a falling out with him and broke from his ranks last night, choosing to remain ashore after all the others took to the water, but that had no effect on the number of boats Snoga took with him - all were used, and none left behind."

"Well, that's good news, at least!" Saybrook said with relief. "I knew no self-respectin' riverdog would cast its lot with Snoga once they got a good eyeful 'n' earful o' what that villain's all about!" He looked to Urthblood with concern creasing his brow. "You ain't gonna go after 'em, M'Lord, are you? Chances are they took no part in that attack on Doublegate ... or if they did, t'was under duress, or 'cos Snoga filled their heads with lies. No need slayin' blameless otters over this ... "

"That remains to be seen, Captain. Snoga is my chief concern at the moment, but anybeast who raises arms against us is an enemy, regardless of species, and will be treated accordingly."

"Some otters remain in Snoga's company," Saugus informed them. "They elected to journey to the island with those shrews, so we may be facing them in battle yet."

Saybrook's face fell at this news.

"I did not attempt to track those who defected, or the hare, since I had to go after the departing logboats," Saugus continued, "so I cannot say where the extra boat may have come from, Lord. Perhaps some nearby lakeshore tribe. Most certainly that hare had to travel some way to find it, judging by how far behind Snoga he is."

Log-a-Log threw a glance Urthblood's way. "We're gonna need boats, if we're t' hit Snoga where he lives. Be a lot easier if we can find some th' locals can lend us instead o' havin' t' chop down an' hollow 'em out from scratch."

Urthblood nodded. "Something to consider. We will see when we get there. But for now, let us be underway. I can see that Captain Tardo on the north banks appears eager to resume our march, and so am I. The sooner we reach the lake, the sooner we may know how to proceed."

00000000000

As midday neared, the twin columns of marchers came to an obstacle that not even a Badger Lord's will could wish away.

They had finally reached the point, deep in the wildest heart of southern Mossflower, where the streams began to branch and feed into each other. Tardo's regiment of Northland shrews found themselves at the juncture of two rivers, one flowing down from the north into the main one they were following. To follow the banks of this new watercourse would take Tardo's column away from Urthblood and the Guosim on a tangent that might put them on the lakeshore miles from their comrades-in-arms, or might not even lead to the inland sea at all. The two groups stood staring at each other across the primary broadstream, confusion plain on most faces while their badger leader impassively studied the situation.

"What'll we do now?" Tardo called across to Urthblood. By this point, the river had narrowed enough that the parties on opposite banks could easily converse by shouting back and forth across the flowing waters; certainly no large sailing vessel or searat submarine would have been able to make it this far upstream.

"Do you have tools with you for felling trees and shaping wood?" the red-armored warrior inquired of his shrew captain.

"Um ... yeah?"

"Good. This is a heavily wooded area. Get right to work on crafting logboats. Make enough to carry your entire company, with room to spare. We will proceed to the lake on foot on this side."

"Might take a couple days t' chop down that many trees an' get 'em hollowed out, M'Lord ... "

"Work as fast as you can. We will wait for you on the lakeshore."

"Aye, M'Lord! We're on it!" Tardo turned to issue these instructions to his fellow shrews so they could begin their labors at once.

Altidor swooped down from the east, alighting on the riverbank before Urthblood. "What news, Commodore?" the badger asked.

"Snoga proceeds as anticipated. Klystra watches him now. You heard about Hanchett?"

"Yes, Saugus told us. How does he fare?"

"Not bad, for a beast with little nautical experience. He's trailing far enough behind them that I don't think Snoga yet realizes he's being followed. Hanchett is also veering off slightly to the south of the island, but that land mass rises prominently above the water. He's not likely to miss it, unless he goes blind. As long as the weather holds, he should reach the island several hours after Snoga does."

"What of the island itself? Have either of you had a chance to fly out to it for a closer look?"

"Aye, Lord. A large number of rats appear to inhabit it."

"Searats?"

"I do not think so. They were out tending fields, and wore woodlander garb. They did not seem like pirates, or warriors of any kind."

Log-a-Log looked to Urthblood. "Could be Snoga ain't got that isle all to 'imself much as he reckoned ... "

"Perhaps. Was there anything else, Commodore?"

The great golden eagle nodded. "Yes, the main reason I came, Lord. Earlier this morning, while I watched the lake waters, Klystra flew a wide circle over the rest of southern Mossflower. He located the searats with the catapults coming out of the woods onto the wastelands between the forest and the coast. They appear to be headed for the searat compound on the coast between Mossflower and Southsward. Several ships lie at anchor there. Your orders?"

"What size is their force?"

"Two catapults, supply wagon ... Klystra thought about twoscore rats total, perhaps three."

"It will still take them several days to reach the coast," Urthblood said, "and we are not currently in any position to pursue or engage them. We must deal with Snoga before all else. Monitor their progress as much as you can, but only if it does not compromise your surveillance of the lake."

"I understand, Lord."

As the south column got underway once more, the clunking echoes of Tardo's axes filling the woods behind them, Log-a-Log remarked to Urthblood, "Must be quite a thing, havin' all them birds at yer beck an' call, able t' tell you what's happenin' all over th' lands at once ... "

"Yes," the Badger Lord concurred, "it has proven an invaluable advantage to me on a number of occasions."


	4. Chapter 116

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

For the first time since beginning his footchase of Snoga, Urthblood kept his column of squirrels, otters and Guosim moving past dusk and into the night. That afternoon and evening had seen them encounter both of the side creeks that Hanchett surmounted in his own chase of the shrew outlaws - in fact, they even availed themselves of the same fallen tree to cross the wider brook, trooping over it in a single file; the sturdy trunk supported Urthblood's weight without sagging. As for the narrower one, there was no question of anybeast among them, not even the sprightly Gawtrybe, leaping it as the hare had done, so they simply waded across it. The water only came up to the waists of the Guosim, and not even to the mid-thigh on the squirrels and otters, so there was little danger of pike or other lethal aquatic denizens surprising them. The day was warm, even under the dense forest canopy, so none of the questors much minded getting their lower halves wet or their paws a little muddy.

As the gloom of summer twilight gradually deepened to full night, Urthblood could sense that the lake lay not too far before them, and urged the others on. Perhaps he could not see the exact shape of what was to come in the days ahead, but his immediate vision - the one that surrounded his physical form at all times and had guided his movement through so many jeopardous situations in seasons past - still dwelt strongly within him, revealing the forest in front of him in sharper detail than the brightest lantern. Striding confidently at the head of the column, the badger warrior led the way with a purposeful and unerring gait, stumbling not once nor allowing himself a single misplaced pawstep. With leadership so sure, the other beasts could not help but follow in his wake, and so follow they did, like water flowing in to fill a trench being plowed through these dark woods.

Two hours before dawn, Urthblood stepped out from the trees onto the shores of the big inland lake. In short order all his soldiers and allies spilled out of the forest to stand around him, gawking at the impossible plain of water stretching out before them. Even with just moon and stars to illuminate the vista, the sight took many a breath away.

"Will y' look at that!" Saybrook muttered. "Big as th' sea, yet nary a ripple ... "

"Not quite so big, Captain," Urthblood said, "and in rough weather I am sure these waters grow as choppy as any storm-tossed waves off Salamandastron. Snoga was lucky indeed to have such placid conditions under which to escape to his island. But perhaps this fair weather will work to our advantage as well ... "

Altidor and Klystra, having been relieved by Saugus at dusk, sat by the mouth of the broadstream awaiting the arrival of their badger master. Seeing the makeshift army pouring out onto the lakeshore a short distance below them, the two raptors rose and sauntered over to give their latest report.

Urthblood heard them out with only the barest of nods to indicate he was even listening. The birds' update revealed nothing new; Snoga still made for the island, Hanchett still trailed after them by a good distance, and the searats to the southwest still dragged their heavy siege weapons across the wastes and back toward the coast. The enemy shrews might reach their destination by sunrise, but other than that, nothing about the situation seemed likely to change before morning.

When they were finished, Urthblood said to the golden eagle, "Altidor, I appreciate that you have been on the wing all day, and that you are not overly fond of night flying, but I must request another mission of you. I need you to fly to Salamandastron right away."

Both birds stiffened at this. "Do you ... sense trouble there, Lord?" Altidor asked.

"Not at all, although I will certainly want you to check on the status of things there for me. No, I need you to deliver a message."

"To whom?"

"Scarbatta, captain of my seagulls. I have instructions for you to give him. Listen very carefully ... "

Once Altidor had memorized the message to Urthblood's satisfaction, the eagle took off and flapped his way northwest, a silvery winged phantom in the moonlight. His departure did not go unnoticed by the ground creatures under the badger's command.

"Where's th' Commodore off to?" Saybrook asked as Urthblood rejoined the main company.

"Special assignment. With any luck, we might be able to end this tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" the otter captain repeated, flabbergasted by such an announcement. "Why, it takes over a day an' a night jus' t' sail out t' that island, M'Lord, an' we ain't even got any boats yet!"

"The boats will come in good time. Snoga has painted himself into a corner, and it may be that this will prove to be his fatal mistake. I want to try an alternative strategy here before we engage him directly."

"An ... alternate strategy?"

"You will see, if and when it happens, Captain. For now, make sure every creature in our force gets bedded down comfortably to catch whatever rest they can before sunrise. Who can say what tomorrow will bring?"

Saybrook shrugged as he turned away. "Well, if _you_ can't, I shore ain't gonna try!"

00000000000

Even though Snoga's shrews (and the otters remaining among them) had rowed in shifts on their way out to the island so that half of them could catch up on their sleep at any given time, it was still an exhausted company that finally drew up to those isolated shores in the hours past midnight. They'd been on the move without stopping almost from the time of the battle at Doublegate, their only brief respite coming as they waited on the lakeshore for the fall of night so they could shake Urthblood's birds.

That strategy had proven less effective than Snoga had hoped, as the silently pursuing raptors reappeared in the sky high above the logboat fleet the following morning, refusing to be eluded. The shrews had not yet caught on to the fact that they were also being tailed by an owl at night, since Saugus studiously avoided flying in front of the moon where his silhouette might give him away. Snoga simply figured that the badger's aerial scouts were willing to fly farther afield than he's assumed, and dismissed his latest miscalculation as inconsequential. None of it would matter once they were back on their island and inside their castle - his castle! - where no mad badger would be able to touch them.

Even after everything he'd done - or perhaps because of it - Snoga harbored not a shred of doubt that he would emerge from this affair stronger than ever before. He'd dealt a major blow to the arrogant Northlanders who sought to occupy Mossflower, demonstrating both his power and resolve, and providing a rallying point around which the grateful residents of these lands could flock to him. He'd also dealt a blow to the searats, sinking their iron boat before they could get their claws on it - a triumph on top of a triumph, and further proof to the goodbeasts of Mossflower that he stood as a champion against any and all outsiders who might encroach upon their home. Sure, they were on the run now, and he might have to lie low for the rest of this season, but once Urthblood realized there was no way he could get at Snoga, that red-armored brute would have no choice but to turn his attention back to the searat threat that menaced him at his very doorstep. Let Tratton and Urthblood have at each other in their contest over the coastlands, while the badger's shrews - if any had survived - slunk away in the aftermath of their stunning defeat. In time, Snoga would venture forth from his island stronghold once more, to greet the woodlanders among whom his legend had only grown in his absence, and who would be ready to embrace and acknowledge him as the true master of Mossflower's shrews and a defender of freedom to be reckoned with. Then the crowning glory of his ascension would at last be realized, and not even that pushy know-it-all Log-a-Log would dare to stand against him!

The wan moonglow revealed their destination while the flotilla was still a good distance out from the island, the tall and jagged profile unmistakable against the calm waters on this clear night. As they drew nearer, they could make out lights in some of the castle windows overlooking the north side of the isle, checkers of yellow against the looming dark shadow of the towering structure.

"Whaddya know!" Snoga exulted. "They've kept some lamps burnin' t' guide us an' welcome us home! Just hope none of them mucky rats've been sleepin' in my bed while we were away - might's well just throw out those sheets an' get new ones if'n they have!"

And then the first of the logboats nosed ashore. There wasn't nearly enough room at the tiny slip to moor even a fraction of their fleet, so the small vessels were simply hauled up onto the rocky tideline by their respective crews.

Snoga stepped out of his own boat and indulged in a luxuriously satisfying stretch while his crewmates grappled with the craft; he'd done his share of rowing in the course of their escape, and he certainly wasn't about to engage in such menial labor when there were so many other paws to get the job done. "Ah!" he exhaled deeply. "Always good t' be back in yer own safe harbor! We made it, shrews! Nobeast'll be able t' touch us now!"

To the chorus of cheers that bolstered his sense of self-importance, Snoga spun and marched up from the waterline to the castle gate. Poss scurried ahead of him to open the door in the wall that led into the inner courtyard, but this gesture toward his chieftain ended up being wasted.

Snoga came to a halt before the scout shrew who struggled with the gate. "Well, what're ya waitin' fer, Poss? Get it open!"

Poss turned to the senior shrew with a helpless shrug. "I can't, Boss. It's locked!"

00000000000

If the True Guosim were exhausted by the time they reached the island of Castle Marl, Hanchett was several steps past that point.

The hare had drifted well to the south of the isle during the predawn hours, the endless repetition of his unskilled paddle strokes hypnotizing him into a trance of weariness. At some point his heavily-lidded, half-seeing eyes told him that the sky was brightening, this second night on the water giving way to his second day seated cross-legged in his stolen logboat. Every muscle protested, except for those that had long ago cramped into total numbness, but Hanchett ignored these aches and pains, just as he had for the major part of this chase. Snoga wasn't about to sit still just because Hanchett needed to rest for awhile.

Then again, the outlaw shrew was headed for an island, and once he reached it, he'd not be going anywhere. An island that could lie anywhere out upon these vast waters. Hanchett had naturally assumed, at the start of this impromptu voyage, that he'd simply row straight out from the lakeshore and the island would be there somewhere in front of him, impossible to miss. A night and a day upon the lake served well to disabuse him of this notion, revealing to the unnautical hare just what he'd bitten off when he'd commenced his waterbound pursuit. He'd come to see that this virtual sea was so enormous that he might pass right by an island - even an island large enough to hold a castle - and never see it, such were the distances involved out here. Not realizing how long this would take, Hanchett had not bothered to bring any food along with him, and now began to wonder whether he might perish out here and never see land again.

Still, it surely would not hurt if he stopped rowing and closed his eyes for just a little while, would it? Indeed, this might in fact prove a fine idea, for what would it gain him to keep on rowing if he was headed in the wrong direction? No, he would rest here for a few moments, just float upon these calm waters while the day blossomed more fully around him, and then he could take stock of his surroundings and see if he could get his bearings. The more he thought about it, the better this course of action seemed to him ...

Hanchett jerked up his head and opened his eyes, finding the day a good deal brighter than it had been just a moment before. He was too tired to get mad at himself for drifting off, almost too muddleheaded to remember where he was without a supreme effort of concentration. What was he doing out here again? Oh, yes - looking for an island. Snoga's island.

Pawing at his eyes in an attempt to clear them, Hanchett scanned the water to every horizon. The sun was still not up, but the brilliant glow to the east suggested that it very shortly would be. At first Hanchett thought he was in store for yet another featureless vista of all-encompassing lake surface, but as he increased his scrutiny, he realized that something more than that met his bleary eyes this morning. Far to the north - it was north, wasn't it? - lay a speck that, upon closer examination, was far more than a speck. An undeniable interruption in the perfect smoothness of the watery panorama, a dark rising that could not be dismissed as a trick of overused vision or a mirage.

Hanchett took a few moments to survey the encircling horizon again, but in no other direction could he spy anything that might be land.

"Oh, well," he said to himself, "looks like it's that way or no bally way at all. Dunno if that's Snoga's lair, but since I don't fancy becoming a skeleton hare hauntin' other travellers on this lake for th' rest of bloomin' eternity, got no choice but t' make for it, wot?"

Tucking his head down and taking up his oar once again, Hanchett redirected his prow to the north and dug into the water, pushing toward his rendezvous with destiny.

00000000000

Once he'd delivered Urthblood's orders to Scarbatta, Altidor decided that he'd earned a rest from this unanticipated piece of extra flying the Badger Lord had asked of him. So, while the seagull captain saw to his own birds, the golden eagle made for his aerie hangar beneath the south crater rim of Salamandastron and settled down in his homey straw nestbed for a quick nap.

The screeching of gulls and the pale light of dawn roused Altidor from his brief slumbers. Standing and stretching, he went to the edge of his roofed balcony, spread his mighty wings and circled down to the chamber window where he'd told Scarbatta he would meet the seagulls this morning. Lord Urthblood had been most explicit that the bombardier squadron should depart from the mountain at first light, and Altidor would have to fly at the head of their formation to guide them to the spot where the badger awaited them on the shores of the big inland lake.

A scene of orderly pandemonium greeted Altidor upon his arrival at the lower window. Gulls wheeled and careened in a thick flock outside the opening, sometimes pecking or harassing each other in their efforts to be first inside. In the midst of this melee, an occasional gull would emerge from the window, bearing beneath it one of the clay vessels stored in this chamber. Thus equipped, those seabirds flapped up to the staging area on the plateau where they would await the departure of the fully-assembled - and fully-armed - squadron.

If Altidor had realized the level of supreme confusion that would hold sway around this storeroom, he would have told Scarbatta to meet him up on the roof of Salamandastron. But he'd thought he might have to oversee the distribution of these armaments personally, and so had arranged for the rendezvous at this site. There was nothing for it now but to bluster through and be done with it.

Altidor gave three keening screeches of warning - deeper and more penetrating than anything the gulls were capable of producing - and plowed through the milling, whirling cloud of seabirds to seek out Scarbatta. A few of them barely got out of the eagle's way in time, and Altidor ended up almost colliding with one who was coming out of the window with its payload. Awkwardly flapping aside to let the burdened gull pass, hanging half off the window ledge by his talons, Altidor at last ducked through the window into the room.

Several more seagulls stood within, forming the crudest idea of a line while they waited to receive their respective canisters. Scarbatta squawked at them to keep the proceedings as orderly as possible, at least by seagull standards. Matowick and Mattoon stood inside the door, staring at the activity with open puzzlement and more than a trace of concern on their faces. The addition of the majestic raptor to this small gathering left the chamber rather crowded.

"Altidor!" the Gawtrybe captain called across to the eagle. "What's going on here?"

It occurred to Altidor then that perhaps he should have informed some of Urthblood's other captains of the badger warrior's most recent orders before they had to find out this way. Maybe he would have, had he not arrived so late the night before and so desperately needed sleep that he retreated straightaway to his aerie after delivering his message to Scarbatta.

Ignoring the two ground creatures for the moment, Altidor addressed the seagull commander. "Have you got everything here well in talon, Scarbatta?"

The other bird officer nodded. "All goes well. We all ready to leave by sunrise."

"Very good." Altidor was not overly fond of confining spaces, and wished to be away from this one as quickly as he could. "I will meet you up on the plateau."

The eagle turned to fly back out the window, but a sharp word from the squirrel made him hesitate. "Commodore! We need to talk about this!"

"On the plateau, Captain Matowick," Altidor repeated, and launched himself from the window ledge, once more nearly colliding with several of the wheeling gulls who flocked alongside this face of the mountain.

The squirrel and weasel officers must have fairly bolted up through the mountain in their haste to reach the crater, for they appeared from the roof stairs mere moments after Altidor settled himself upon the south rim. Matowick and Mattoon rushed over to him, questions in their eyes long before the words spilled from their lips.

"What's going on?" the Gawtrybe captain demanded. "Scarbatta tells us he and all his gulls are leaving for Mossflower!"

"Those are Lord Urthblood's orders, yes," Altidor affirmed. "He deems they are needed there."

"What about here?" Matowick argued, pointing seaward. "Right now we have three searat ships sitting off our shore, containing perhaps four or five hundred of those bloodthirsty vermin - uh, no offense, Mattoon."

"None taken, Matty mate. I ain't no searat."

"You have over three hundred warriors of your own inside Salamandastron - most of them Gawtrybe archers. Do you really imagine that even five hundred searats would be able to overwhelm your defenses and take this mountain?"

"Probably not," Matowick admitted to the golden raptor, "but I'd hate to test that scenario. And with all our otters gone, these gulls are the only way we have of striking at Tratton's ships. If he sees them all flying away, he might just be emboldened to try something ... especially if he's got more galleons, frigates or perhaps even a dreadnought or two lurking out there somewhere. And that's not counting his steel ships that run underwater - who knows how many of those he has, or how many fighters he might be able to deliver that way?"

"If it will make you feel any better," Altidor said, "I will leave some gulls behind to perform long-range ocean reconnaissance for you. We have more birds than weapons anyway. And Lord Urthblood assured me that this mission should only take a day or two. The full force will return as soon as their work in Mossflower is done, so in the highly unlikely event that Tratton attacks, you will only have to hold him off for a short while."

This did little to soothe Matowick's worries. "First Lord Urthblood invites those sea savages here, then he goes running off just when it was starting to look as if these negotiations might actually be going somewhere, and now this ... " He threw a glance at the clay containers that were multiplying upon the mountaintop, along with their seagull bearers. "What're those, anyway? More Flitchaye gas?"

Altidor shook his head. "Something new, from what I understand."

"Oh? What does it do?"

"I cannot say. I have never seen it in use."

Standing behind Matowick, Mattoon held his silence, fervently hoping that none of the others noticed how he was suddenly unable to meet anybeast's gaze.

00000000000

Tratton assumed that when Korba summoned him to the top deck of the _Wedge_, it was not without good reason. When he therefore turned his gaze upon Salamandastron and perceived nothing out of the ordinary, he had to question the urgency of that summons.

"What am I supposed to be looking at, Korba?" he asked with an airiness that only accentuated the dangerous edge to his voice.

"Well, they're all gone now, Yer Majesty," the intelligence rat half-stammered.

"Gone?"

Korba pointed to the south, at an indistinct gray cloud that waved above the coastal plain. "Look there, Sire. It's Urthblood's gulls. They've all flown away!"

Tratton produced his spyglass and examined the receding squadron. Even through the magnified field of the optical instrument it was difficult to distinguish individual bodies among that flock, or to tell what kind of birds they were. Lowering the viewing tube, he ordered Korba, "Tell me more."

"They just came off th' mountaintop all at once, M'Lord. Musta been a hundred of them! Most every one had some kinda container slung under 'em, too. At first we thought they meant to attack us, some sneak treachery o' Urthblood's, but they took off to the south an' kept on goin'!"

Tratton absently tapped the metal casing of the telescope with a pinky claw, the _tink-tink-tink_ carrying across the steel deck. "South, eh? The same way Urthblood himself went. You know what this means, Korba?"

"Well, it's gotta have something t' do with Kothar, doesn't it?"

"Urthblood would not have called for reinforcements unless he felt he needed them, or they had some special purpose to fulfill. We know he's trained those seagulls in methods of warfare that have never been seen before, on land or at sea. Somewhere in south Mossflower, a battle is raging - a battle Urthblood means to win."

Korba paled. They'd known, ever since the Badger Lord made his unexpected departure from Salamandastron days earlier, that it was most likely Kothar's activities which had called him away. "What if he captures Kothar, or some of his other rats, and finds out what we were planning, M'Lord?"

"He doesn't need to capture a single rat alive to see our involvement in this," Tratton answered with a scowl. "A dead searat body will speak just as loudly as a live tongue. Urthblood will know it was searats who took part in this operation against his shrews. This is what I was afraid of. Even if Kothar succeeded in seizing our ship, and even if he manages to sail it out to sea past Urthblood, we dare not accept it now. He will say this attack occurred while he was negotiating with us in good faith, and demand that we return it or face all-out war. If only Kothar could have gotten clean away and I'd been able to sign this damnable accord before that red demon learned of any of this!"

Korba looked to his sovereign in surprise. "You mean t' sign this treaty with Urthblood, Sire?"

"Of course I'll sign it!" Tratton slapped his telescope closed for emphasis. "What choice do I have? Peace, or war. Perhaps I could win such a war, and perhaps not. What I stand to lose in the risks of war far outweighs what I stand to gain if Urthblood has been sincere in these negotiations. The question now is, will he still be interested in talking peace when he returns?"

"If he returns ... " Korba added with uncertain optimism. Tratton shot his false Viceroy a glance. "You think this battle might be Urthblood's last?" he probed.

Korba shrugged. "Things happen in war, Yer Majesty. Sometimes, even th' mighty fall. An' he's not the only one with powerful weapons. T'would be ironic if Kothar's little side mission ends up bein' Urthblood's undoing instead of ours, wouldn't it?"

"_Our_ undoing, Korba?"

"Um ... er ... uh ... " Korba sought for a way to fold into himself and disappear from his master's two-toned gaze.

"I would not hold my breath waiting for such a thing to happen," Tratton said as he looked landward once more. "If you do, I would expect your ears to turn thirteen shades of blue before you pass out. No, Urthblood will return, and well before season's end, unless I miss my guess. And when he does, it will be you sitting across the table from him again ... so I suggest you start thinking about what you will say to him."


	5. Chapter 117

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

Upon realizing they'd been locked out of "their" castle, the irate shrews of the True Guosim took to pounding on the gate and shouting to be let in until both their paws and their throats grew raw. Seeing that these efforts were futile, and that the water rats genuinely had no intention of admitting the invaders who'd so brutally persecuted them previously, Snoga and his cohorts set about trying to force their way inside.

Castle Marl lacked the formidable defenses of many such fortresses, but it was still a castle, and thus designed to keep out unwelcome intruders. The shrews scouted the stronghold from all angles, but no matter where they looked, the combination of high windows, jutting overhangs and further locked doors frustrated their every effort to gain entry into the keep they considered their own.

At that point, Snoga wanted to grab up one of their logboats and use it as a battering ram against the main gate, but these exhortations met with less than enthusiastic responses from his tired crewmates.

"Aw, let it rest!" grumbled the ever-contrary Gomon. "We busted our tails gettin' here, when there prob'ly wasn't even anybeasts after us! But we're here now, an' we're safe, an' we're tired to th' bone, so let's leave gettin' inta that rockpile 'til mornin'."

"But ... it's our castle!" Snoga blustered, almost apoplectic.

"An' it'll still be there come sun-up. These rats gotta come out sometime t' tend their fields, an' when they do, we'll just move right back in - you said as much yerself when we left 'em alone here. No need t' go bashin' down doors or wreckin' th' place. Now, I'm gonna settle down right out here an' grab some sleep 'fore it gets light out ... "

To Snoga's dismay, most of the other shrews agreed with Gomon, and joined him in bedding down in their boats or on the softer patches of ground surrounding the castle. The otters, too, stretched out under the stars, relaxing after their days stuck in the logboats and happy to be back on dry land. Snoga browbeat a pawful of his more loyal (or more suggestible) True Guosim to take up one of the small vessels and try his battering ram idea, much to the annoyance of those trying to catch some sleep in the few hours remaining before daybreak. With Kellom and Snoga himself pitching in to lead the effort, the rammers smashed their makeshift weapon against the gate again and again, but to little effect. The heavy door shuddered but did not give, outlasting their strength.

"Gah! They musta braced it or shored it up on the inside!" Snoga gasped, chest heaving from the exertion.

"Guess they really don't wanna let us in, huh, Boss?" Kellom gathered.

"Yeah," Gomon called across from his resting spot a short distance away. "An' now that you've prob'ly got 'em all riled up in there, I bet it'll be days 'fore any of 'em gets up th' nerve t' set foot outside those walls!"

"Well," Snoga swore, "I'll make 'em pay dear fer every day they keep me outta my palace! If they thought I was hard on 'em before, they'll learn a new meanin' of th' word!"

"You tell 'em, Snoggs!" Gomon guffawed. "That'll encourage 'em t' open up, sure 'nuff!"

Snoga stood huffing in the predawn dark, re-examining his options. "Hey, mebbe one o' them other doors 'round th' sides an' back ain't braced an' barred as sturdy as this gate is. Let's try bringin' this boat 'round there an' tryin' again ... "

"In th' mornin', Chief," one of the other tired shrews said, walking away to find his own patch of turf to rest. His bone-weary companions quickly followed suit, leaving just Snoga and Kellom standing alone outside the stubborn gate.

"Guess we get t' sleep outdoors one more night, eh, Chief?"

"But we shouldn't - hey, what's that?" Snoga craned his neck to look up as the sound of flapping wings came from over their heads somewhere.

"Another o' Urthblood's birds?" Kellom wondered, a hint of worry coloring his voice.

"At night?" Snoga scoffed. "Don't be daft! Gotta just be some local island owl ... or mebbe even a bat ... "

"A bat? I dunno, Boss. Sounded more ... feathery ... t' me."

"Well, whatever it was it's gone now, an' I doubt it'll trouble so many o' us gathered t'gether like we are. I got more 'portant things t' worry 'bout ... "

And worry Snoga did, sitting off alone glowering at his castle that spurned him and nursing his foul mood. Of all the indignities, to return from his triumph against the Northland shrews only to be greeted like this! It would not be allowed to stand. He would not be content to sit out here waiting for those rats to come out when it suited them. Why, they could have stockpiled enough food in there to last them into autumn, giving them a season to thumb their snotty noses at their masters and piling the humiliation upon Snoga. Why, they were probably in there laughing at him right now! This line of thinking only fueled his wrath. He had just gotten the better of Urthblood, gotten the upper paw on the supposedly undefeatable Badger Lord, vanquished the intruders who threatened Mossflower's independence - he would _not_ be kept from his own fortress by this pathetic lot of farmer vermin. Not even if he had to take Castle Marl apart stone by stone ...

It was there in the burgeoning brightness of the new morning that Snoga at last determined his next move. Why muck around with crude battering rams when he could show these rat dullards just who they were dealing with?

Most of the other shrews had come awake with the blossoming dawn, although a few still slumbered into the young day. None, however, had dared approach the stormy-faced shrew leader who perched upon a stout post, working his jaw and muttering incoherently. They figured Snoga would make his wishes known soon enough, and there was no point in rushing things.

Snoga leapt from his seat and stamped down to the logboats clustered along the waterline. "Kellom, it's time we make these insolent insurgents realize who's in charge here! Time t' rattle their nerves an' their bones, an' mebbe make a few of 'em soil their fur fer good measure! Get one of them stormpowder kegs!"

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It would be a busy morning on the shores of the big inland lake.

Urthblood dispatched Klystra as the first lambent tones of dawn sought to dispel the shroud of night, sending the falcon eastward to relieve Saugus before the day grew too brilliant. Less that halfway out to the island, however, Klystra passed the owl as the nightbird winged his way landward, clearly indicating that Saugus had abandoned his nocturnal surveillance long before schedule. The two circled each other high over the wide waters, the owl appraising his feathered brother of all that he'd seen and heard at Castle Marl that had inspired him to leave prematurely. Having brought Klystra up to speed, Saugus continued on his way to shore while the falcon resumed his flight to monitor developments on the island.

Urthblood too showed mild surprise at Saugus's early appearance, as did his squirrels and otters. The Badger Lord listened to his night scout's report with great interest, nodding in silent approval at the account of the incident between Snoga and his former subjects.

"So, those rats ain't lettin' him in, huh?" said Saybrook. "Mebbe we was wrong about Snoga hidin' out on that island last season ... "

"Or else the situation there was more complex than we realized," Urthblood mused. "If those rats see him as hostile, perhaps they do so from experience. If he occupied that island by force of arms, it seems he did not leave behind an adequate force to keep the rats from retaking the castle."

"Wouldn't put such stupidity past him," assessed Log-a-Log, who'd ambled over to listen in on this discussion. "That's th' kind o' brutebrain he is. An' if them rats really are peaceable beasts, I'd not've wanted t' be one of 'em livin' under Snoga's rule ... "

"Yes, I remember well his attack on my rats last summer," Urthblood said. "Although, if Captain Tardo's accounts are to be believed, along with the evidence of our own eyes, it would appear that Snoga's aversion to rats is not so overpowering as to prevent him from working with them when it suits his purposes. At least where searats are concerned."

"Still don't see what good this'll do us," Saybrook lamented. "By th' time we'd be able t' get out there, you can almost be shore Snoga will've found a way t' get inside that castle ... 'specially if he's still got some o' that searat thunderpowder with 'im."

"An' partic'larly if them rats ain't trained fighters who know how t' defend their keep," added Log-a-Log.

"Nevertheless," Urthblood stated with his usual implacable calm, "the fact remains that he is currently locked out of his sanctuary, and stands to remain thus until he can forcibly alter the situation. This might provide us the window of opportunity we need."

"The window to do what, M'Lord? I still don't see ... " A sound from behind Saybrook made the otter captain pause in mid-sentence and turn around. A short way offshore, a trio of logboats skimmed the waters parallel to the land, borne along by the expert paws of their shrew rowers.

"Identify yoreselves!" one of Urthblood's otters demanded from his ankle-depth guard position, brandishing his javelin while several Gawtrybe behind him notched arrows to their bowstrings and put the newcomers in their sights. "Friend or foe?"

"I oughtta be th' one arskin' ye that, since these're our waters," the shrew seated at the prow of the lead boat yelled back. "Never knowed you waterdogs or treewallopers t' be badbeasts, but with hares stealin' our boats in th' dark o' night, don't rightly know what t' think anymore."

Urthblood strode forward. "Leave this to me," he instructed his soldiers, gesturing for them to lower their weapons, then addressed the shrews out on the lake. "Ahoy, friend! If you mean us no harm, I can assure you we will offer none in return. We are aware of this hare you speak of, and know that he had compelling reasons to deprive you of one of your craft. I welcome you to come ashore, so we can discuss this over breakfast."

Urthblood's booming voice had no trouble carrying across to the boatbeasts. "An' who would you be?" the spokes-shrew queried suspiciously.

"Lord Urthblood of Salamandastron. These are some of my forces, along with the shrews of the Guosim. We are only here in this part of Mossflower to attend to a pressing matter that affects the peace of all the lands. We seek to trouble no creatures of good standing."

"Th' Guosim, eh?" This seemed to mollify the shrew, and presently the three logboats aimed their way toward Urthblood's camp and crunched up onto the pebbly lakeshore there. These vessels were considerably smaller than those favored by the Guosim or Northland shrews, little more than canoes that could only hold three or four shrews apiece. It was easy to see how Hanchett could have swiped one of them and gotten away without too much trouble.

"Name's Keldi," the lead shrew said as he stepped ashore and shook Urthblood's much larger paw in his own. "An' if ye're that badger whose shrews've been rubbin' some fur th' wrong way hereabouts, I c'n prob'ly half-guess why ye're here now."

"Oh? Please enlighten me."

"Gotta be that rabble-rouser Snoga who's been trash-talkin' you an' yer shrews since middle o' last season, tryin' t' recruit some o' th' locals t' go 'gainst you. I'd not allow any o' my tribe t' fall in with such foolishness, much as one or two of 'em mighta wanted - naught t' be gained from such meddlin' in wider affairs that stretch beyond this lake, 'specially 'gainst a beast like you who ain't even a vermin an's got an army an' a half atcher pawtips. That didn't stop some o' these young turks from th' other lake tribes from hookin' up with Snoga's crusade, more fool them. He even wrangled some otters inta joinin' him, from what I hear. Sometimes shrews got no sense, but I'd not o' thought any riverdogs'd be so empty in th' skull as t' be bamboozled by that rude runt's braggadocio." Keldi looked hard at Urthblood. "Guess them grackles've come home t' roost now, eh?"

"When Snoga attacked one of my garrisons in mid-spring - seriously wounding the Abbess of Redwall in the bargain - he lost nearly half his shrews and was put on the run. I was content not to hunt him to the death, once he vanished into lower Mossflower and gave no indication that he would cause further trouble. But now he has attacked me a second time, leaving me no choice but to pursue him as far as I must to gain justice."

"Justice, eh? Got an idea what yer idea o' justice is, an' I'm glad I'll not be receivin' any. What of that hare who cribbed my boat? He one o' yers too?"

"No. A Redwaller who was there when his Abbess was injured, and has been hunting Snoga longer than I have."

"Now that's some dedercashun ... or madness, p'raps. Either way, looks like he's gonna get first crack at Snoga ahead o' you, unless you got some mighty fast boats on th' way."

"Something even better."

Keldi regarded the badger strangely, then shrugged. "Well, it's common knowledge all 'round this lakeshore that Snoga had set up shop out on that island, sharin' it with th' rats who've dwelt there fer generations, so t'ain't surprisin' yer rabbit friend knew t' follow them out there. Could be he even overheard 'em talkin' 'bout it themselves, if'n he was followin' 'em close 'nuff."

"Sharin' it with those rats?" Saybrook repeated. "Well, looks like they've had second thoughts 'bout that arrangement, consid'rin' that they won't let Snoga inta that castle now ... "

"What?" Keldi half-gasped in surprise.

"It's true," Urthblood affirmed. "The rats have locked him out of his castle."

"An', you know this how?"

The badger waved his paw toward Saugus, who sat nearby. "My birds have been watching Snoga's every move, ever since this latest attack."

Keldi stared at the owl for several moments, then doubled over with laughter, slapping his knees. "Now don't that beat all! Locked outta his own castle! Ooo, that's rich, that is!"

The local shrews joined Urthblood, Saybrook and Log-a-Log for a breakfast of crystallized raspberries and acorn bread, two of the food items brought from Salamandastron aboard the Goodwill and carried by the marchers along their route. Keldi shared with them everything he knew about Snoga's occupation of the island at the center of the big lake - which turned out to be not much more than he'd already told them. Urthblood reciprocated by giving the native shrew chieftain the full account of Snoga's attack on Doublegate, leaving out no detail as far as he knew it. Keldi's eyebrows shot up so high that they almost left his forehead, and he rocked back on his haunches at these revelations.

"Searats, huh? I only met this Snoga once, an' he struck me as wrong in more ways than I could count, but even so I never woulda 'magined he'd throw in his lot with searats. Guess he was more vermin than I even realized."

"Th' surprise is that he got so many shrews t' go along with 'im," said Log-a-Log. "Lot of 'em came from my own Guosim, malcontents that Snoga lured away with all his false accusations an' falser promises. Hard t' believe otherwise decent creatures could be led so badly astray."

"Aye, I know whatcher mean, matey," Saybrook concurred. "Still can't b'lieve he got otters t' go along with 'im too. What were those riverdogs thinkin'?"

"It is possible that Snoga secretly worked out his alliance with the searats in advance, and kept it from most of his followers until the very last moment," Urthblood speculated. "Perhaps even after the attack commenced, when they were committed to the assault and could not back out."

"Sounds like Snoga," Log-a-Log muttered.

A shout from one of the Gawtrybe lookouts up in the trees caused everybeast below to glance northward. Two more logboats - much larger than Keldi's and each carrying close to a score of shrews - emerged from the river mouth above their campsite and turned south toward them, hugging the shoreline. Urthblood rose and strode to the water's edge just as Captain Tardo leapt from the lead boat and waded ashore.

"Captain, I did not expect you so soon. You made good time."

"Well, M'Lord, when you say jump, we know how t' jump!" Tardo replied. "Figgered we'd get a couple o' boats ready 'fore th' rest, so's me 'n' some o' th' lads could get here lickitty split. Made 'em good 'n' big too, seein' as how you 'n' yer squirrels 'n' otters'll prob'ly be wantin' t' head out to that isle. Daresay either o' these treetrunks we just hollowed out would support you, with room fer a few others b'sides."

"Good thinking. Where are the rest of your shrews?"

"They'll be along shortly, M'Lord - midday, at a guess, give or take. They were all still craftin' their own boats when we left 'em ... with mebbe one or two extra, seein' as how you got a whole lotta boatless beasts here. Won't be enuff t' carry our entire force, tho' we can always make some more here." Tardo's gaze went to the three smaller logboats pulled up on the land a way below them. "Tho', it looks like you might've found yerself another source o' transportation as well ... "

Urthblood introduced Keldi to Tardo. "He is the chieftain of the local tribe from whom Hanchett stole his boat. I have not yet discussed with him the possibility of using some of his clan's boats for our needs."

Keldi's brow furrowed as he studied anew all the shrews, squirrels and otters arrayed across the campsite around him. "I dunno 'bout that. If'n I lent you ev'ry boat we got, still wouldn't be enuff fer half th' beasts you got 'ere. An' our dinky liddle things ain't made fer trips far out onta th' lake anyways. What if y' got halfway out an' a storm kicked up?"

"I hope it will not be necessary for my entire force to travel to that island," said Urthblood. "In fact, at this point I am almost counting on that not happening. The boats that Captain Tardo's regiment will be bringing should suffice."

"Are you thinkin' o' takin' on Snoga with just a part o' yer forces, M'Lord?" Tardo asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Log-a-Log quickly put in, "hope you ain't consid'rin' goin' out there wi'out us. Snoga's our business too, an' we got a say in how this turns out!"

"An' don't ferget, M'Lord," Saybrook added, "if Snoga's still got any o' that new searat weapon he used in his attack on Doublegate, we might not wanna face 'im with anything less'n our full strength ... "

No sooner had these words left the otter's mouth than the faint reverberating echo of a distant boom carried to their ears across the wide, calm waters. Keldi glanced skyward in puzzlement. "That's funny. Not a cloud in the sky, but I coulda swore I just heard thunder ... "

Every other creature present stood staring out toward the watery horizon to the east. "T'wasn't thunder, matey," Tardo told Keldi. "Kinda hopin' I'd not hear that sound ever again in my life, but I guess that'd be askin' too much, eh?"

"I know whatcha mean, Tardo matey," Saybrook commiserated, recalling well his own memories of his seacoast experiences with Tratton's new weapon.

"There can be little doubt that Snoga is using the stormpowder to blast his way into the castle," Urthblood concluded.

"Yeah, but, if he does that," asked Log-a-Log, "how does he hope t' keep us out when we get there, with th' defenses all blown t' smithereens?"

"There is a very good chance he was never aware of our pursuit, in spite of Klystra and Altidor's presence. He has little reason to believe I am not still at Salamandastron, or that we are anywhere this close to him. He must think he has all the time in the world to repair whatever damage he causes to his stronghold." The Badger Lord turned his gaze from the lake to the skies northwest of them. "This will be a close thing. Very close indeed."

00000000000

Snoga and the True Guosim stood regarding the results of their efforts with mixed feelings, a few bloodied shrew bodies lying amidst the shattered debris of the blasted gate.

So impatient had the renegade shrew leader been to get into Castle Marl that he'd had the stormpowder keg fetched, the fuse prepared and the cask emplaced against the unyielding gate all with the utmost haste he could command from his scrambling underlings. It was not until the fuse was actually lit that the shrews crowding the area realized the open space between the slip and the outer wall afforded no shelter whatsoever from the explosion's effects. Those closest to the gate turned to flee before the fury of the searat weapon was unleashed, only to find their path of retreat impeded by their fellows, who had also turned to run, but were blocked by yet more shrews ... and then the panic set in. Some ended up rushing straight out from the gate and into the water, seeking to immerse themselves and avoid the blast that way, but most continued their sideways push to the left and right, heaving against the beasts in front of them to get clear in time.

A few didn't make it. The flash and thunder of this keg splintered the gate and fragmented the timber braces wedging the door shut, just as Snoga had wanted. Unfortunately, due to the way they'd dug in the cask at the base of the gate, those spears and shivers flew out in all directions, impaling and lacerating any shrew who had not put sufficient distance between itself and the epicenter of destruction. Three were slain outright, while a dozen others were maimed with injuries ranging from minor to crippling. Snoga himself, in spite of being close to the keg to supervise its installation, somehow managed to put enough of the others between himself and the blast that he escaped with just a few peripheral splinters and a ringing in his ears.

Kellom stood looking over the carnage of carpentry and flesh as he wiped a drop of blood from his own snout. "Well, that coulda gone better, Boss ... "

"Pah! It's their own fault fer not movin' faster! Now, let's go give them turncoat rats their tails on a platter!"

Snoga led his armed and shouting followers up over the smoldering ruins of the water rats' improvised barricade and into the courtyard before the castle itself. Worried faces showed at several of the windows overlooking the walled-in grounds, faces that quickly drew back when the battle-fevered shrews launched an on-the-run fusillade of slingstones up at them.

"Hey, Chief - what if they got rocks an' other heavy stuff up there t' throw down at us?"

"Um ... good thinkin', Kellom! You go first!"

The water rats did indeed unleash a rather feeble return fire of their own, but this did little to slow the onrushing True Guosim, hungry to be back inside their purloined palace after all their tribulations out in the wider world. However, when the shrews reached the castle door, they found themselves confronted by yet another solidly barred gate. Not even all their massed and heaving bodies could budge it.

"Sorry, Chief," Kellom said, turning to Snoga. "Looks like this one's all barricaded too. Should we get another of 'em powder kegs?"

"Not just yet," the shrew leader replied with a raised paw, gazing up at the castle rearing high above them. "We already wrecked one gate gettin' this far, an' I don't wanna make a total shambles o' this place if I c'n help it. I got another idea ... "

Waving for his fighters to fall quiet, Snoga stepped back to where every north window would have him in its view. "Awright, lissen up in there, muckbrains! Y' seen what we c'n do out here! We got weapons that'll bring this castle down 'round yer ears if you force us to it! So let us in, an' we'll go easy on ya! Make us blast our way in, an' we'll show you no mercy! Open these gates now if you value yer lives!"

The water rats' reply was not long in coming. A single, perfectly-aimed beet, well past its prime, smacked against the shrew chieftain's upturned face with a squishy splat.

"Well, that don't seem very encouragin' ... " ventured Kellom.

Snoga clenched his jaw as he wiped the rancid mush from his face, struggling to control his fury. "Kellom, get every shrew in here, even th' injured ones! An' them otters too! It's time t' show these doltrats that we ain't goin' anywhere!"

00000000000

Hanchett heard the concussion of the explosion while he was still some way out from the island. He couldn't imagine why Snoga might be using such weapons out here, but he had no doubt that the renegade shrew was behind this beast-made thunder.

The otters he'd overheard had said Snoga would be making for a castle, but Hanchett could see no structures whatsoever upon the southern end of the island looming before him - just heavy forest upon steep slopes. Then again, this might be just what he wanted: a nice secluded spot where he could land without being noticed. He wouldn't be able to kill Snoga unless he could get near him, and that would require every bit of both stealth and luck that he could summon. He'd need to do a fair amount of reconnoitering once he'd landed before he could make his move, figure out where everything was and where Snoga was weakest ... and then he could strike.

Ignoring his fatigue as he had for days now, Hanchett bore down and quickened his rowing pace. He was almost there.


	6. Chapter 118

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

Altidor came winging out of the west into the new sunrise, the early brightness turning his plumage to golden fire. Behind him, those same rays played upon the breast feathers of fourscore seagulls with a blinding whiteness. The dull clay vessels that dangled beneath each seabird did not sparkle or shine nearly as much as their bearers, their innocent earth tones yielding no hint as to their deadly contents.

In the hour after breakfast, every creature at Urthblood's lakeside encampment turned their wide and wondrous gazes to the sky. Keldi and his local shrews would never have imagined that any land beast could possibly command avian forces of the magnitude filling the skies now, while the Badger Lord's own fighters and the Guosim had no idea that Urthblood had summoned such a large contingent of his winged warriors. The mere sight of so many seagulls this far inland, following in rough formation after the magnificent eagle at their forefront, was enough to drop jaws and leave tongues stilled, dumbstruck.

Altidor and Scarbatta - the only gull not bearing an underslung weapon of his own - settled down before Urthblood, while the other seabirds alighted all around the campsite wherever soft ground allowed for the safe cushioning of their lethal loads. At the urging of both the Commodore and their captain, they'd flown hard from Salamandastron to the big lake to make the best possible time, and now sought a much-needed rest for their tired wings and strained talons. Urthblood cast a few concerned glances their way, then returned his gaze to the two bird commanders, satisfied that the gulls were taking sufficient care not to rupture any of their payloads.

"I am sorry to impose upon you further, after your efforts to get here so quickly," Urthblood addressed them, "but I need you to leave for the island at once. Snoga and his shrews have been locked out of the castle by the rats who live there, and I do not know how long the situation will remain thus. If he makes it inside, your weapons may prove largely ineffective. We have already heard indications that he may be using the stormpowder in an attempt to gain entry, so our window of opportunity may be brief."

Altidor nodded, about to acknowledge these further orders, but Scarbatta spoke first. "Must rest."

"I'm afraid there is no time for that, Captain. You must leave right away."

"Gulls not used to flying this far, this fast," Scarbatta said. "Carry weapons here for you, now weary in wing and leg. Short rest, maybe some food too, then will be ready to fly."

Seeing that it would be useless to argue further, Urthblood gave a nod of acceptance. Normally he would not be so quick to relent with a captain of his who spurned orders under such urgent circumstances, but he knew Scarbatta had a valid point. His seagull bombardiers clearly were in need of a rest, even if only a brief one. These birds were still savage and wild in many respects, and it had taken considerable time and effort on Urthblood's part just to instill as much loyalty into Scarbatta's squadron as he had. To push them too hard would be to risk insurrection or defection at the very time he needed them most.

"Very well. A short rest, but no more. I'll see about getting you something to eat. No fish, I'm afraid, but I'm sure we can find something to satisfy your gulls' tastes and replenish their energy."

"Thank you, Lord."

As Urthblood conferred with Saybrook about getting the gulls fed, the otter captain threw a glance toward the terra cotta containers resting on the ground alongside each seabird. "Um, whatcha got in mind, M'Lord? Those look like vessels fer th' Flitchaye gas, 'cept they ain't shaped quite th' same ... "

"It is something new that I have been testing, that I feel would be appropriate for this situation."

Log-a-Log stood at Saybrook's side. "It ain't that stuff that eats beasts away, is it?" During his time at Salamandastron, the Guosim leader had heard about the vitriol that had been used against Tratton, and had also met the glassblower mouse Tolomeo who'd miraculously survived having both his legs burned off at the knees during a mishap in handling the corrosive fluid. The shrew never imagined that such a horrifyingly destructive substance could exist.

"No," Urthblood replied, "the glass vitriol would have been too hazardous for my seagulls to carry so far over unfamiliar territory."

"Oh, okay. 'Cos, much of a rat as Snoga is - an' that's an insult t' rats - nobeast deserves a fate so terrible," Log-a-Log said. "Hate t' get out there an' have my son Pirkko hafta see a whole crowd o' half-melted shrew corpses ... "

"So, just what _does_ it do?" Saybrook inquired.

"You will see for yourselves when we reach the island ... if it works. If not, we may still face a formidable battle. But we must not shy away from what lies before us, whatever it may be. Snoga's campaign of violence against unsuspecting goodbeasts must be stopped once and for all."

Neither of the others was about to argue the point. Snoga had been a thorn in Log-a-Log's side since long before he'd splintered from the Guosim, taking all of his followers with him. As for Saybrook, he and Tardo had forged a close bond during their coastal battle with the searat dreadnought the _Sharktail_, and Snoga's attack on Doublegate had been as much an injury to a friend as an affront to his badger master. If this ended anyway other than with Snoga's death, the otter captain would be far from satisfied.

A short time later, as Saybrook oversaw the distribution of provisions to the gulls, he took aside Altidor. "Lissen, matey," he said to the golden eagle, "there's some otters out there with Snoga, an' while I ain't sayin' they're totally blameless in what's gone on, I can't b'lieve they're more'n misguided, misled souls who fell fer Snoga's bunk. I'd not see 'em harmed if there's any way of avoidin' it. Reckon you could see t' this fer me?"

"I can't make any promises," the Commodore replied. "Getting Snoga takes priority above all else. If those otters place themselves in harm's way, we can't make special allowances for them. We have a mission to perform."

"Aye, I know. So, what 'xactly is this stuff you'll be droppin' on that villain out there?"

"I don't know, Captain. I suspect that Scarbatta and his gulls might have an idea, but they're not saying. But if Lord Urthblood deems it's called for in this situation, I am bound to deliver it."

"Yeah, that's true," Saybrook acknowledged, "orders is orders. Well, jus' keep in mind what I said, an' do what you can. It'd be a shame if beasts who ain't got blood on their paws end up gettin' killed over this ... "

"Some already have," said Altidor. "Or have you forgotten the attacks on Foxguard and Doublegate? That is why Snoga must die. If those otters have chosen to put themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, they have nobeast to blame but themselves for whatever happens to them."

Finishing their rushed repast, the gulls were made ready to take up their payloads and return to the skies once more. Some clearly felt they were entitled to more of a rest, but by this point Scarbatta's sense of duty to Urthblood overcame their desire for relaxation, and the seagull captain's shrill exhortations soon had every bird of his squadron on the wing. With Altidor leading the way, the bombardiers flapped their way out across the open lake waters into the still-rising sun, toward the island lair of their enemy as the ground creatures stood on the lakeshore watching them dwindle into the distance.

"And soon we will know," Urthblood intoned into the silent morning.

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"Uh, Boss, I don't think this's workin' ... "

It would seem that Kellom had hit the nail on the head. Even with every shrew and otter of Snoga's forces brought into the courtyard and standing in a show of power under the castle windows, the water rats within made no move to tear down their barricades and admit their returned oppressors. Now, with the sun climbing high into the sky, its rays clearing the courtyard walls and baking both the ground and the banished creatures locked out of their own conquered stronghold, the point had been reached where their display of resolve would soon cross the line into a demonstration of futility. Many in the shuffling, uneven ranks behind Snoga were starting to feel that the longer they stood out here, the more ineffectual they would appear to the rats barring them from Castle Marl. Something would need to be done, and soon.

"Gettin' near noontide," Gomon grumbled over Snoga's shoulder, "an' them simpletons ain't budgin'. We gonna stand out here all day? Mebbe hope it rains, an' then they'll let us in outta sympathy?"

"Aw, it ain't nowhere near noontide," Snoga growled back. "But ye're right that we've given those slimy usurpers all th' time they deserve! We gave 'em their chance, an' now it's time t' do things our way!" Raising his voice for the benefit of any rats listening from behind the windows, the shrew leader barked, "Syll! Cangus! Go fetch another keg o' that stormpowder from th' boats! We're gonna blast our way in, an' then we'll make those rats regret bein' born!"

As the two appointed shrews turned and hastened away to carry out their orders, Snoga looked up to the castle. "Y' hear that?" he called to the empty windows. "We're gonna take out this gate jus' like we took out the other one, an' then there'll be no escapin' our steel fer you! This's yer last chance! Open up now, or this'll be the unhappiest day o' yer miserable, wretched lives!"

Kellom whispered to Snoga, "Ya really gonna blast that door, Chief? I thought y' wanted to avoid that if ya could ... "

"Only if they force me to," the True Guosim chieftain muttered back. "I'm hopin' they'll come t' their senses once they see I'm serious 'bout usin' it. But make no mistake - if they don't open fer us, then use it I will!"

"Even if it leaves us defenseless?" Gomon asked accusingly.

"Defenseless from what?" Snoga scoffed. "No enemy's gonna be able t' reach us out here! We can take all season t' rebuild both gates if we need to - won't make no difference! This lake's a better defense than any made o' wood or stone!"

"Oh, really? Then what about that?" Gomon pointed up to where Klystra could be seen circling high over the castle.

Snoga dismissed the falcon's presence with the wave of a paw. "Pah! If those featherbags was gonna do anything, they'da done it by now. Startin' t' think they might not even be Urthblood's. But even if they are, what can they do t' us? They're just birds!"

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While everybeast else stood preoccupied by the unyielding castle gate and the falcon circling high overhead, Syll and Cangus scrambled over the courtyard gate wreckage onto the waterfront where all the logboats were arrayed. The two shrews chattered loudly about what they were about to facilitate.

"Blowin' up that other gate too ... I dunno, Cang. Seems t' me we're wreckin' th' whole place. I mean, we gotta live here once we get them rats straightened out."

"Yah, I know. An' look at all o' us who got killed an' injured when we blasted this gate. We don't need anythin' like that again ... "

"Oh, that ain't gonna happen. Now that we know how powerful a punch that stuff packs, Snoga'll clear out that courtyard 'fore he sets it off - get alla us out 'ere where it's safe so's we don't get struck down by - ooph!"

Barely had the pair noticed the blur of movement out of the corners of their eyes when Hanchett struck. Tired as the hare was, the two shrews were still no match for his Long Patrol's fighting expertise and the insatiable thirst for vengeance and justice that drove him on past all reasonable bounds of physical exhaustion. Two rapid flying head kicks took down both True Guosim before either could raise a cry, snapping Syll's neck with an instant death blow and stunning Cangus. In almost the same motion that he landed, Hanchett leaned forward and relieved each prone figure of its shortsword, then plunged the blades into their former owners' chests just to make sure both were dead.

Wiping the weapons clean on his victims' tunics, Hanchett turned to the boat toward which they'd been headed. "So, Snoga wants his boomer kegs, huh? Well, we'll just hafta jolly well see about that, wot?"

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"What's takin' those idiots so long?" Snoga wondered in agitation, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the ruined outer gate but finding his view blocked by the crowd he'd assembled in the courtyard. "Can't they do a simple task like fetchin' a cask 'tween th' two of 'em? Poss, go see what's keepin' 'em!"

"Right, Chief!" The lowly shrew scout hurried off through the milling throng to see to this. Snoga shook his head and returned his attention to the castle.

"Buncha nincompoops! Amazin' we was able t' whip Urthblood's shrews t'all, if that's th' calibre o' help I got workin' fer me!"

"Still don't look like them rats're budgin', Chief," Kellom observed. "Guess we might hafta blast our way in after all ... "

"If it comes t' that," Snoga said. "Thought they'd have more sense. Where'd that pitiful lot o' farmin' vermin go an' get spines from?"

"Mebbe y' got 'em so scared, they're too terrified t' stir themselves an' get th' door open," Kellom ventured.

"Oh, yeah," Gomon mocked. "Too shakin' in their fur t' let us in, but not t' chuck a rotten beet at Snog's head! We got 'em petrified, awright!"

"Shut yer festerin' trap, Gomon! We'll be back inside there 'fore ya know it, with or without their cooperation. Then you'll see what's what - an' so will they, woe to them!"

"Hey, watch out!" a nearby shrew shouted, pointing skyward. "The big bird's divin' straight for us!"

Nearly everybeast packed into the courtyard cringed, even the otters, as their gazes followed the pointing paw. The threat of any raptor was one to be taken seriously, for most were big and strong enough to whisk away a grown shrew in each talon without a second thought. Javelins went up and stones went into slings in preparation to ward off this winged menace, if it came to that.

It did not. The falcon swooped down like a giant feathered dart out of the northeast, but disappeared behind the outer courtyard wall.

"Oh, crud!" Snoga muttered. "It must be after Poss 'n' Syll 'n' Cangus! Mebbe even th' stormpowder itself!"

Before he could rally his forces to rush to the aid of their fellows, Poss sprinted in over the pile of debris from the shattered gate, crouched in a low run with his paws up over his head. Snoga pushed through the crowd to hear what the scout had to say.

"Cangus an' Syll're dead, Boss!" Poss gasped in near-panic.

"That bird got 'em both?" Snoga exclaimed in surprise.

Poss shook his head. "Didn't look like it ... both their swords're gone, an' it looks like they was slain with their own blades! But that ain't all - th' stormpowder's gone too!"

"What? Are y' sure?"

"I looked in th' boat where they shoulda been, an' they wasn't there!"

"Hellsgates an' damnation!" Snoga spat. "Some o' them accursed rats musta snuck out another way, ambushed Syll 'n' Cangus an' made off with our powder! We gotta get it back, 'fore they figger out how t' use it an' turn it against us! Everybeast outside, an' after 'em!"

Nobeast made any move to obey.

"What're ya waitin' fer? Get movin'!"

A single sharp birdshriek, brimming with deadly menace, sounded from somewhere outside the courtyard wall.

"I ain't settin' foot out there," Gomon told Snoga. "If'n you want that stormpowder back so bad, go get it yerself!"

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Klystra's swooping form took Hanchett quite by surprise as the hare crept along the outer base of the west courtyard wall, clutching the last surviving keg of stormpowder to his chest. He'd opened the others and dumped them into the water to ruin them, but had thought it prudent to keep one in reserve, just in case. Hanchett harbored some ideas on how he might be able to use it to his advantage, and his main concern now was making a clean getaway with the heavy cask. His plan hinged on getting the explosive stashed away someplace where only he would be able to find it easily - most likely up in the heavily-wooded hills he'd traversed on his way across the island from his landing point on the south shore. Now that scheme was thrown into momentary disarray by the falcon that alighted in his path.

"Yahh!" the hare exclaimed, drawing back in startlement at this unexpected arrival, one footpaw raised and ready to lash out in automatic defense. "Wot th' blinkin' blazes are you doin' here, you frightful pillowstuffer?"

"Been following Snoga since attack on Doublegate. Not to let him out of our sight this time. Must pay for his crimes."

"My bally idea exactly, beakface, so if you'll kindly step aside 'fore those nastywhiskers come after me, I got a job to do."

Klystra eyed the stormpowder keg in Hanchett's paws. "What kind of job?"

"Never you mind. Let's just say I got ideas on how t' put Snoga in his place once an' fer all, an' since there's nobeast else out here who's gonna say 'boo' to him, guess it's gotta be me, wot?"

The raptor studied Hanchett more closely. The hare practically swayed on his feet with fatigue, his bleary and bloodshot eyes looked out from puffy bags and droopy lids, and the paws holding the powder keg fairly trembled with nervous exhaustion.

"You in no shape to fight. Why not wait for Lord Urthblood?"

"Urthblood? I'd not cooperate with that hare-slayin', brother-murderin', treacherous, deceitful, red-armored brute! 'Sides which, he must still be out at Salamandastron. Don't expect he'd be able to get here 'til summer's end ... "

"Wrong. Lord Urthblood stands on western lakeshore this morning. Will arrive in day or two."

"Wot? How'd he get here so flippin' fast?"

"Has distant vision. Sees what happens far away. Knew of attack on Doublegate as it happened. Commandeered trader ship next morning, sailed up river into Mossflower. Has Guosim with him, some squirrels and otters too, plus all survivors from Doublegate. Means to slay Snoga and all who took part in attack."

"He does, does he?" Hanchett forced the cogs of thought to turn in his sluggish mind. After everything he'd been through in his pursuit of Snoga, he wasn't about to just step aside and let somebeast else finish the job, thank you very much - not even if he was dead on his feet. He'd taken care of those two shrews outside the wall efficiently enough, and if all went according to plan, he would only have to fight one more ... assuming his ploy worked. Otherwise, he would most likely be walking into his own end.

But if anybeast else was to put paid to Snoga, Hanchett most certainly would not stand for it to be Urthblood. The renegade shrew might have become Hanchett's own personal obsession over the past season, but even in his present mania he still recognized the badger as the overriding enemy of all the Long Patrol, and of every decent creature in Mossflower. He might almost have supported Snoga's cause, had that despicable half-rat not conducted himself so atrociously at Foxguard, slain Broggen or enlisted the aid of searats. And while there was a certain undeniable justice in having his two enemies at each other's throats, he simply could not stomach the idea of Urthblood denying him his long-sought vengeance.

Hanchett thrust the stormpowder keg at Klystra. "Here, take this someplace up in those wooded mountains where Snoga won't be able t' find it easily. If he wants it as badly as I think he does, it's th' best bloomin' bargainin' chip we've got."

"Bargain? Snoga is to die, not bargained with ... "

"Well, you know that, an' I know that, but that sawed-off fink doesn't hafta know it! Now, I kept on huntin' Snoga long after you an' your big red boss gave up the bally chase, so I'd say that gives me some say in the jolly matter, wot? 'Specially considerin' that I'm here right now an' he's not."

Klystra regarded both hare and cask skeptically.

"Look at it this way," Hanchett went on in his most convincing tone. "Snoga's not going anywhere, since this is his chosen hideaway. This's all he's got. Now, if Urthblood's gonna be here in the next day or two, wot could it hurt if you let me try wot I've got in mind? I've earned this flippin' chance, chap. If it doesn't work, well then that big badgery brute'll be by in good time to finish up anything I start."

After a few moments' consideration, the falcon gave a nod. "Okay. I take keg, hide it well, then fly back to help you if I can."

"Thanks. Knew you'd see sense ... " Hanchett set the cask down on the ground before him so that Klystra could grip it in both talons and lift off with it. As the bird flapped up toward the tree-studded slopes to the south, Hanchett turned and marched resolutely to the courtyard entrance.

His moment had at last arrived.

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Snoga was still trying to decide what to do when Hanchett stepped into the courtyard.

The debate over whether to charge out en masse in a group attempt to recover the stormpowder cut off to instantaneous silence at the sudden and unexpected appearance of the hare. Hanchett stood atop the remains of the shattered fortifications until he was sure he had their undivided attention, staring them down with paws on his hips as if the one of him was more than a match for every single one of them combined.

"It's ... it's that hare!"

"How'd he get here? It ain't possible!"

"He's come t' slay more o' us!"

"Only beast who's gettin' slew here is him!" Snoga shouted to rally his shrews. "Instant promotion fer th' beast that brings me 'is head! Get 'im! Kill 'im!"

"Not so blinkin' fast!" Hanchett called out to halt them before any could build up the courage to rush forward. "I got somethin' I think you want, Snoga. Slay me, an' you'll never find out where I stashed your precious weapon kegs!"

The True Guosim chieftain gritted his teeth and clenched his paws at his sides. "Ye're bluffin'! You couldn't've had time t' get those casks more'n a few hunnerd paces from where y' found 'em!"

"What makes you think I was workin' alone, you flea-infested, foul-tempered, crooked-nosed, scum-tailed miscreant?"

This gave everybeast under Snoga's command serious pause. They'd all seen the falcon, and this hare had been out there with it yet still lived, which fairly well indicated that they were allied. And Syll and Cangus had been slain before they could so much as cry out in surprise or alarm. If the hare had made it here so quickly, who was to say he might not have accomplices outside the courtyard's walls?

"Whaddya want then?" Gomon demanded, drawing a sharp glance of disapproval from Snoga.

"Just a fair shot at wot I came here for." Hanchett drew one of his two commandeered shortswords and pointed it at Snoga. "A one-on-one fight 'tween me an' that worthless excuse for a shrew, duel to th' death with no interference from anybeast else!"

"An' jus' why'd we agree t' that?" Snoga sneered. "All I gotta do is give the order, an' you ain't leavin' this yard alive. There's enuff of us that we'd be able t' search this entire island top t' bottom in one day an' find th' stormpowder y' stole from us!"

"I'm a hare of th' jolly Long Patrol. Even if all you hooligans rushed me at once, I'd still be able to take quite a few of you with me. Now, if I was one o' your henchbeasts, I'd be sayin' to m'self right about now, 'Why should I put myself in the way of that mad hare's blades when I can just step aside an' let my no-account boss put his acorns where his mouth is an' prove wot kind of warrior he really is?' See whether he's really fit to be leader of this outfit, wot?"

"How do we know you ain't gonna turn on us if ya defeat Snoga?" Gomon asked Hanchett. "Or decide not t' tell us where th' keg is after all? You got no int'rest in helpin' us, after what we did t' Urthblood's shrews ... "

"For one thing, 'cos I still have some hope of walkin' outta here alive, chappie. For another, I'm not with that badger's forces, so I don't really give a fig about wot you did or didn't do to that big brute's beasts. I'm only here 'cos of wot this lout did to Redwallers at Foxguard. All that other stuff's 'tween you an' Urthblood. So, wot's it gonna be? You lot feel like protectin' that coward an' maybe losin' your lives in the bargain, or will y' step aside an' allow for a fair fight? 'Cos I'm not leavin' 'til he's dead, or I am!"

"Well, when ya put it that way ... " Gomon stepped aside. "He's all yours!"

"Gomon, you traitor!" Snoga screamed, red in the face.

"I ain't a traitor," Gomon shot back. "This hare just challenged you to a fair 'n' honorable contest. Ya gotta accept .. unless y' wanna lose th' respect an' loyalty o' every shrew here."

Snoga thought furiously for a way out of this. It was clear at a glance that Hanchett was hardly in any physical shape to be issuing such a challenge - if he'd been going against another beast of his own size and skill. Against Snoga it would most likely be no contest, even given the hare's state. Half asleep, any fighter of the Long Patrol could defeat any shrew of Mossflower, the Northlands or Southsward. Snoga knew that to accept this challenge would be to virtually guarantee his own death.

But then, as Gomon had pointed out, Snoga didn't really have any choice in the matter.

"Awright," he grumbled, then pointed at one of the otters. "I choose him as my champion! He'll fight ya in my stead!"

The otter grimaced at Snoga with an expression of supreme distaste. "I draw th' line at fightin' hares fer ye, ya scabbity scouse!"

"Now wot good would it do for me to lay low this fine waterdog - tho' he can't be _too_ fine, to've cast his lot with you in th' first place - if you'll still be free to roam th' lands an' cause more misfortune? This's a blood feud 'tween you an' me an' nobeast else, an' it's you I'll be fightin'. Your otters aren't gonna step in on your behalf, an' I'm guessin' th' rest of your shrews'll have better sense than to do so either. So draw your blade or just stand there an' die, 'cos you an' me're havin' this out right here an' right now!"

A glance was passed between Snoga and Kellom that Hanchett, in his weariness, failed to catch. Then the True Guosim leader drew his searat sword and waved for Hanchett to come forward. "Bring it on, hare! You've been a thorn in my paw fer too long now, an' it's time t' put you outta my misery once an' fer all!"


	7. Chapter 119

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

Klystra finally chose a hollow dead elm halfway to the south end of the island as his hiding place for the stormpowder keg. The tubular trunk accepted the cask without any problem, and while Klystra was fairly certain that he would be able to find it again with little trouble, he felt equally confident that Snoga's shrews would be very hard-pressed to discover the keg in its high resting place, even if they swept through this area in search of their stolen weapon. Of course, the only creature Klystra imagined he would ever have to recover the keg for would be Lord Urthblood himself; now that this formidable armament had been stripped from Snoga, the falcon could not see any circumstances under which he would return it to the hostile shrew, no matter what ploy Hanchett had in mind.

Satisfied that the stormpowder keg sat snugly in its treetop perch, Klystra turned and winged his way back toward Castle Marl ... where he alighted on the courtyard wall just in time to witness Snoga's treachery.

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Hanchett charged his adversary, a shortsword brandished in each paw, his only thought to end the life of the abominable little creature who had caused so much death and suffering in Mossflower this past season.

Snoga, his own blade drawn, pointed at the hare with his free paw. "Hey, no fair! Drop one o' yer weapons - I only got one!"

But Hanchett rushed onward, unheeding of this call for parity. Fairness was the last thing on his mind, since he knew he was dealing with a beast who would throw honor to the wind anytime it suited him. All that mattered now was making Snoga dead ... and the sooner the better.

"Feel free t' grab a second one for yourself," Hanchett growled back, "but y' better do it quick!" And with that he was upon the shrew, going at his enemy with everything his flagging strength had to give.

Snoga, in spite of his long history of cowardice, was no slouch with a blade ... and the searat sword he bore now had twice the reach of either weapon wielded by Hanchett. More than this, however, was the memory of what had happened to him on the searat submarine. That blind fury threatened to return now, spurred by this morning's events. First, to be denied entry to Castle Marl by creatures so lowly as these timid water rats, followed by Hanchett's unexpected arrival, bothersome meddling and insolent challenge, capped off by the refusal of anybeast here to stand up to Hanchett on his behalf - all these indignities swirled together to fuel his rage. He'd sworn he would never fear another beast again, and as Hanchett's blades fell upon his, something miraculous occurred within Snoga: all cowardice melted away, chased from his heart by unrelenting waves of pure spite. There was no longer room for fear inside him - just hatred.

This, combined with Hanchett's utter exhaustion, was the only thing that kept Snoga from falling to the hare's onslaught in the opening moments of their clash.

Even in the grip of his towering fury, Snoga found himself being forced backward a step, then two, then three. He had all he could do to fend off Hanchett's windmilling blows and stabbing thrusts to keep that deadly steel from touching flesh or drawing any of his precious blood. He quickly saw that trying to score a hit on the maniacal Long Patrol hare was out of the question; Hanchett clearly didn't care for his own safety, and Snoga correctly suspected that his opponent would gladly accept a mortal wound as the price for bestowing the same upon Snoga in return. Every ounce of the shrew's energy was poured into defensive blocking moves to hold his attacker at bay ... and even so, it was anybeast's guess as to whether Hanchett's strength would fail before he succeeded in sneaking a lethal blow past Snoga's desperate defensive maneuvers.

Snoga, however, had no intention of letting this scene play out that long. "Cheating!" he forced out between parries and counterthrusts against the two whirling shortswords that sought to end his life. "He's cheating! Kellom - now!"

The shrew lieutenant nudged two of his more loyal fellows and rushed to his imperiled chieftain's aid, their own swords drawn.

Guessing what was about to happen, Hanchett locked Snoga's longer blade in both his own and lifted it high, then dealt the shrew leader a savage kick to the belly. Snoga went flying onto his tail even as Hanchett spun to face this new threat.

Klystra, newly arrived on the walltop overlooking the courtyard, gave a shriek of outraged militance both to warn Hanchett and to let the others know that the hare was not the only enemy they would face if things went badly here.

The distraction of that unnerving, piercing birdcry instilled a moment's hesitation in Kellom and his companions - and that was all the opportunity Hanchett needed. Striking out with blades and footpaws both, he quickly laid low Kellom and one of the others. The third shrew backed away, holding his quivering blade up toward the hare but looking for all the world as if he'd suddenly forgotten how to use it.

Even as Hanchett was about to turn to face Snoga once more, a sharp lancing pain in the small of his back told him that he'd ignored his primary target for one perilous moment too long. He completed his turnabout, falling to his knees as he did so, and lashed out with both shortswords at the enemy who'd snuck up behind him.

His blades sliced through empty air. Snoga had lunged forward just long enough to run Hanchett through the spine with his longer blade, then withdrawn in the same instant to get clear of the inevitable retaliation.

Klystra squawked again and spread his wings to swoop down to Hanchett's aid. Before the falcon could leave his talons, however, a third shriek sounded in the clear morning air, carried upon the breezes that played over the island. Klystra lifted his gaze to the west, where he beheld a sight which the events in the courtyard below had kept him too preoccupied to notice before now.

Winging his majestic way over the lake toward the castle soared Commodore Altidor ... and in the great golden eagle's wake flapped fourscore of Scarbatta's gulls, nearly every one bearing some kind of payload under them.

Down in the courtyard, Snoga stood taunting the immobilized hare. From a safe distance, of course.

"Kinda tough t' stand or walk with a cut spine, ain't it? Or t' kick, either. Too bad y' slew Kellom, he was a good an' loyal 'tenant. You'll pay fer that, you can bet yer bobtail on it, hare - but not 'fore you tell me where you stashed my stormpowder!"

Hanchett merely glared at enemy shrew. The red hatred in the hare's eyes was still just as deadly as that in Snoga's.

"Takes a long time t' die from such a wound ... if y' even die t'all. Plenny o' time fer me t' show you pain th' likes o' which you ain't hardly imagined. This castle's got a quaint li'l old fashioned dungeon down at its bottom, filled wi' more toys o' agony than you can shake a stick at. Force me to it, an' I'll introduce ya t' all of 'em, once I get inside ... "

Hanchett could feel all sensation flooding out of his lower extremities; just to remain on his knees was becoming a struggle as numbness seized his trembling legs. He didn't think Snoga's thrust had severed his spine entirely, but it had come close enough to incapacitate him, and he guessed that if he didn't act quickly, he would soon be completely paralyzed.

"Well?" Snoga demanded. "Where'd ya put it?"

Moving with lightning speed, Hanchett repositioned his grip on the handle of each shortsword and launched them like twin harpoons. One caught Snoga in the shoulder while the other took him through the belly. Not a mortal wound, perhaps - or at least not an instantly fatal one - but certainly a blow that would incapacitate Snoga as much as Hanchett was immobilized.

As the shrew fell backwards, his searat sword clattering to the cobblestones of the courtyard ground, Hanchett dragged himself toward his foe to satisfy at last his thirst for vengeance.

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Torn between Hanchett and Altidor, Klystra at last flapped up to greet the golden eagle off the island coast. He knew that any large flock of Urthblood's birds, flying into enemy territory with such payloads in their clutches as he saw now, usually spelled very bad news for that enemy. If these gulls carried sizable quantities of either the vitriol or the flammable oil, it wouldn't matter much what transpired between Hanchett and Snoga - their personal grudge would be rendered moot by the greater events about to overtake everybeast in the target area.

The falcon and eagle circled each other at the front of the oncoming gull squadron. "An attack?" Klystra inquired.

"Yes. Lord Urthblood's orders. Where is Snoga?"

"Inside walled courtyard, north side of castle. Rats not let them indoors."

"Good. Are all his shrews with him?"

"Yes. All in courtyard."

"Otters?"

"Otters there too."

A look of consternation crossed Altidor's face, but he quickly shook it away in frustration. "Ah, well. It can't be helped."

"Hanchett there also, fighting Snoga," Klystra added.

"It can't be helped," Altidor repeated, and then led his seagull force in a swooping dive down toward the north side of Castle Marl, for they were almost upon it. "It was his choice to be in this place at this time, and his bad luck too."

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Some of the True Guosim started to move toward their fallen leader when they saw Hanchett hauling himself across the hard ground toward their chieftain and they realized the hare meant to finish what he'd started. No sooner had they stirred themselves to intercede on Snoga's behalf, however, than a keening birdshriek from above and cries from their fellow shrews made them pause and glance skyward. Eyes grew wide as an airborne river of flapping forms flowed above the courtyard from the west, obscuring the clear blue dome of day with their numbers.

The squawks and cries of seagulls filled the air ... and then the first of the warbirds' released payloads hit the stone floor of the courtyard with a loud shattering sound. All eyes turned to behold a sickly yellow plume of thick vapors rising from the clay shards. The shrews and an otter standing closest to the impact began to cough and choke.

A second vessel burst elsewhere in the enclosed space, followed closely by a third ... and then came a veritable rain of the clay containers, falling so thick and fast that there was no avoiding them, or their released contents. A good many hit the bodies of their victims on their plunge to earth - with the yard so crowded, how could they not? - but nearly every one smashed open, either upon skulls or upon the unyielding ground. Soon the mustard-hued vapors filled the walled-in area, burning eyes and blistering skin and leaving not so much as a lungful of clear air from which to breathe. Creatures began to fall left and right in their sudden agony, not dead yet but never to rise again. Many might have screamed or moaned, had they not been too busy gasping and hacking the torture of their scarred lungs through corroded throats and pustulated sinuses.

And in the middle of it all, Hanchett crawled atop Snoga and fastened his merciless paws around the shrew's throat in an unrelinquishing chokehold. Snoga, consumed by hatred to the last toward anybeast who would dare defy him, yanked free the shortsword impaling his shoulder and plunged it into the hare's belly over and over again. By this time, the hanging yellow cloud hid their death struggle from all other eyes - but even if it hadn't, everybeast around them was too busy dying to much care anyway.

Scarbatta fluttered down to the ground outside the courtyard entrance, standing at the ready to attack any shrew who attempted to flee this way. As his gulls released their burdens one by one, those liberated of their payloads descended to help their captain stand guard. Klystra and Altidor joined them as well.

"What is that?" the eagle demanded. "It's not vitriol, and it's not oil for burning. I'd think it was Flitchaye gas, except for the yellow color ... and those beasts in there sure don't sound like they're being put to sleep!"

"It kills," Scarbatta screeched. "Bad to breathe, bad to touch."

"Yes, but what _is_ it?"

The seagull captain shrugged his wingblades. "Whycare? Kills enemy, all that matters." Scarbatta glanced up; some of the expanding yellow cloud had risen above the courtyard wall, and looked like it might curl down their way. "Think best we move little further back from here, don'tyou?"

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Midday came and went while the landbound warriors on the western lakeshore awaited news from the island.

Early afternoon saw the rest of Captain Tardo's shrew forces emerge from the river in their hastily-hewn logboat armada. As Tardo had predicted, his soldiers had crafted more of the rough vessels than they'd needed for their own numbers, in anticipation of bearing Urthblood and some of the others out onto the lake. There would still not be nearly enough vessels to carry all of the Guosim and the badger's otters and squirrels as well, but they would still be able to dispatch a respectable fighting force to take on Snoga. Assuming, of course, that such an assault would even still be necessary; the question of precisely what Scarbatta's gulls had carried still burned in everybeast's mind, and Urthblood himself was doing nothing to clarify the matter.

The newly-arrived Northland shrews pulled their logboats ashore and settled themselves in for a well-earned rest; they had, after all, toiled long and hard to get here in such good time, and with extra boats, no less. They listened with interest to the news of the seagulls' mysterious advance sortie while they munched and sipped their overdue lunch, then stretched out for some much-needed naps. Until the birds reported back from Snoga's castle, there was little else to be done.

Only an hour into their slumbers, a distant cloud appeared to the east over the lake's flat and featureless horizon. Moment by moment it grew, and it quickly became apparent that the seagulls were returning. Not just some, but all of them ... and as they drew near enough to distinguish individuals within the greater flock, the land beasts watching from the shore could clearly see that none any longer carried the payloads that they'd departed with that morning.

Altidor and Scarbatta alighted on the ground before the red-armored badger, whose bulk and coloration made him easy to spot from the air. Saybrook, Tardo and Log-a-Log hurried over, eager to hear the birds' reports for themselves.

"Is done, Lord," the seagull captain announced as his squadron came to rest farther up along the shore where it was not so heavily infested with shrews.

"Snoga?" Urthblood prompted.

"Dead."

"What about his shrews?" Log-a-Log asked.

"All dead," Scarbatta replied, looking the Guosim leader in the eye without flinching ... which seemed more than Altidor was capable of doing.

"And the otters?" Saybrook inquired, fearful of the answer.

"Dead, too. All dead ... even crazed hare."

"Hanchett?" Urthblood's eyebrow lifted in surprise.

"He was fighting Snoga when we arrived," Altidor clarified, speaking for the first time. "When Scarbatta's gulls dropped their weapons, he was caught in the middle of it. According to Klystra, Hanchett had already been seriously wounded in his duel with Snoga, so he might have died anyway, but still ... "

"Where is Klystra?" Urthblood asked, noting the falcon's absence.

"We agreed that you would want one of us to remain there, just ... to keep an eye on things. He volunteered to stay, even though I suspect he might not have wanted to."

"Any sign of the island's water rat inhabitants during any of this?" the badger queried.

Altidor shook his head. "As far as we can tell, they all remained inside the castle during the attack, so it is impossible to say how they might have been affected. They had Snoga's forces locked out in the high-walled courtyard by the main gate, and apparently they wanted to keep things that way even afterwards. The positioning of Snoga's forces in such a confined area was what made our attack so effective."

Everybeast turned to stare at Urthblood, but it was Log-a-Log who gave voice to what was on all their minds. "What kind of weapon did you say you had those gulls use against Snoga, M'Lord?"

"I didn't," the Badger Lord replied with a finality which made it clear he did not intend to elaborate for the moment. But his seagull captain displayed far less reticence on the matter.

"Yellow death!" Scarbatta crowed proudly. "Gulls drop yellow death from skies, kill all on ground, skreeah!"

Tardo ganced out toward the lake's unseen reaches. "Pity. Kinda wanted t' get me own paws on that scum fer what he did t' Doublegate, but I guess you did what you thought best, M'Lord. Reckon there ain't no need fer us t' go all th' way out there now ... "

"On the contrary, Captain," Urthblood said. "I will not be satisfied that this matter is truly concluded until I take stock of it personally, and see Snoga's final defeat with my own eyes. Prepare to leave at once. We will take an expeditionary force large enough to deal with the native rats in case they get the notion to oppose us for any reason. Captain Saybrook, you and your otters shall accompany us, since this will be a water journey. We will also want some of the squirrels along with us, in case need should arise for their archery skills. Friend Log-a-Log, you can see that we will not have room to bring your Guosim too, but since Snoga was a problem for you long before he came to trouble the rest of us, you are most welcome to a seat on this excursion."

The shrew chieftain slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do hafta see this out to th' end m'self, just like you do, M'Lord. But, um ... you sure you didn't use anything on 'em that eats them away?" A hint of queasiness colored Log-a-Log's inquiry.

"I did not use the glass vitriol on Snoga's forces," Urthblood assured the squeamish shrew, "as Commodore Altidor will testify."

"All the bodies are ... intact," the eagle confirmed.

"Still, it won't be too pretty a sight, I imagine - 'specially since it'll take us a day or two t' reach that isle. Pirkko'll hafta stay behind with th' rest. But aye, M'Lord, I'll be with ye."

"S'pose them water rats out there might burn all th' bodies 'fore we can arrive?" Tardo speculated. "Or bury 'em, or dump 'em inta th' lake?"

"Klystra will convince them to keep things as they are until we can get there," said Urthblood. "I have faith in that falcon's powers of persuasion - especially now that those rats have seen what I can do. Besides, if they were at odds with Snoga enough to lock him out of the castle, I suspect they will be only too willing to cooperate with the creatures who vanquished that menace from their home."

"What about them?" Saybrook bobbed his head toward the gathering of gulls on the shore to the north.

"Their work here is done." Urthblood addressed Scarbatta. "Captain, as soon as your squadron is sufficiently rested, have them return directly to Salamandastron. Tratton must not be encouraged to foolishness by your prolonged absence. Will you need Altidor to guide you, or do you think you can find your way home yourselves?"

"Fly into sunset to coast, then north to mountain. Not hard. We find our own way."

"Very well. Do you think you will be able to leave in time to return to Salamandastron by tonight, or will your birds need to rest here overnight to recover from all the flying they've done today?"

Scarbatta, proud winged warrior that he was, seemed to scoff at the mere intimation that his formidable squadron might be all tuckered out from their mission. "Skraah! No need to rest overnight! Flying much easier now without yellow death in talons! I get gulls back to mountain by sunset, yraach!"

"As you wish. I am sure my captains there will be very glad to have you back the same day you left ... and I, for one, shall proceed with my work here reassured that Salamandastron stands protected under your strong wing."

As Scarbatta flew off to rejoin his flock, Tardo asked his badger master, "What about those searats who helped Snoga attack Doublegate? We ain't gonna let 'em get away scot free, are we? They must be almost to th' coast by now ... "

"Not for several days yet. They pull heavy catapults, remember, and that will slow their progress considerably. There is still time yet to decide what is to be done about them."

"Will you be able t' do anything about 'em t'all without scuttlin' yore negotiations with Tratton?" Saybrook wondered.

"That remains to be seen. As I have said before, it is possible that Tratton was not even aware of this operation against Doublegate. If that is the case, then these events need not impact our peace talks one way or the other."

"Too bad we won't be able to ask Snoga whether his searat allies were workin' under Tratton's orders," Tardo lamented.

"I very much doubt any searats would have shared such information with what they would have regarded as a lowly and traitorous shrew," said Urthblood. "I suspect they were using Snoga every bit as much as he was using them ... although, considering the fate of their underwater ship, I would hazard a guess that they did not derive nearly as much from this alliance of convenience as they had counted upon. But I had to destroy Snoga at the first opportunity that presented itself. He escaped me once after Foxguard, and I could not allow that to happen a second time."

"So, y' really wager those searats were tryin' t' take back their iron boat?" Tardo asked.

"I have little doubt of it, Captain. Snoga might well have attacked you out of pure spite, and perhaps for his own glorification, but I seriously doubt he could have convinced any officer of Tratton's to go along with him without the promise of some more concrete reward. That ship would have provided such incentive for any searat looking to advance in Tratton's ranks."

Tardo's jaw set in a firm line. "Then I'm glad that rustbucket's lyin' at th' bottom of that river! Serves 'em right, fer throwin' in their lot with a villain like Snoga!"

Log-a-Log shot the Northland shrew a sour glare. "Yeah, that's all well an' good, matey ... 'ceptin' that villain slew a Redwaller an' a good friend o' mine when he blasted that big steel fish."

"Aye, that's true. Sorry fer that. Lorr may've been a bit on th' peculiar side, but he was a goodbeast to th' core. Plus, he was helpin' Lord Urthblood tinker 'bout with that iron vessel ... "

"Yes," Urthblood nodded, "I might have been able to use that craft as an effective weapon against Tratton's wood-hulled vessels, in the events that these current peace talks fail. Lorr was helping to modify it for no reward other than his own satisfaction in a job well done. Both he and the ship in which he died will be sorely missed."

While the two captains set about determining who would be among the expedition to the island, Urthblood sought out Saugus. The owl perched in an ash overlooking the campsite, slumbering in the last stages of his daily sleep pattern. The badger roused his nightbird now to issue new orders to Saugus.

"Captain, I will be departing soon for the island. Altidor reports that Snoga and his followers are all slain, so I do not anticipate that I will be needing your services here anymore. It occurs to me that my forces at Foxguard have not been kept appraised of these events, even though they were the first to alert me to the attack on Doublegate. As soon as it grows dark enough for you to fly comfortably, proceed there and report to Tolar. He deserves to know everything that has happened."

"Yes, My Lord." Saugus blinked at Urthblood in the afternoon light. "How shall I tell him Snoga was killed?"

"Tell him my seagulls took care of it."


	8. Chapter 120

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

The courtyard of Castle Marl stank of death, laced with the lingering acrid aroma of the substance which had caused that death.

Noses among Urthblood's expeditionary force began to wrinkle even as the Northland warriors stepped out of their boats onto the island's north shore, already crowded with the many True Guosim logboats. The outer courtyard wall with its shattered gate towered before them, while beyond loomed the imposing facade of the castle itself. But even this preliminary whiff of putrescence did little to prepare them for the horrors awaiting them beyond that wrecked doorway.

The corpses of more than tenscore beasts - mostly shrews with just a few otters mixed in among them - littered the ground within the walled courtyard, all but hiding the cobblestones under a macabre carpet of the dead. No apparent attempt had been made by the native rats to venture outside of their castle and dispose of the bodies. Perhaps they feared some dread disease - which, a closer examination of the victims revealed, might have been perfectly understandable.

These foebeasts were not merely dead, and not merely overripe from the day and a half of lying in the sun while Urthblood's troops had paddled out to the island. Raw sores and blisters showed through the fur on well over half the corpses, and even more than that displayed bloody foam on their muzzles and a nightmarish pustulation of the eyes. Worst of all, nearly every face was twisted into an unnatural contortion of suffering, the frozen essence of their final moments. These shrews and otters had not simply died, but had been overtaken by an annihilating agony that must have been almost beyond imagining.

"This is wrong," Tulia murmured to Saybrook as the two otters stood over the corpse of a third, its lifeless flippers clawing at unseeing eyes in a mute display of its last dying actions. "You know it is, sir."

The otter captain, stricken with horrified grief, could only give a wordless nod of agreement.

A short distance away, Urthblood stood with Tardo and Log-a-Log regarding the still forms of Snoga and Hanchett. Here were the only two faces among the carnage distorted not with agonized terror but by pure hatred and wrath. The hare lay atop the shrew, pinning the smaller creature to the ground, although by the look of it Hanchett had gotten the worst of the scuffle. The Long Patrol scout bore the gruesome mark of a crippling stab wound in the small of his back, as well as numerous similar injuries in his abdomen which had no doubt been inflicted by the bloodied sword clutched in Snoga's paw. Hanchett's body hid the second blade impaled through Snoga's stomach. Although the hare almost certainly must have succumbed to the damage Snoga wreaked upon him, Hanchett's strangling paws remained solidly locked around the shrew's windpipe. It was a tableau of mutual resolve, each beast stubbornly refusing to die until he had slain the other.

"So," Urthblood intoned, "Snoga died as he lived - full of spite and fury. And Hanchett finally gained the vengeance he so desperately sought."

"Do y' reckon they slew each other, or did yer weapon do 'em in?" Tardo wondered.

"Does it really matter?" The badger stooped and retrieved the dropped searat sword that lay several paces from Snoga, holding it up before the two shrews. "I remember, when Snoga recovered this blade from the fox slaver he slew last summer, I warned him it was only likely to bring him misfortune."

"Too bad he hadta inflict misfortune on all th' rest o' us 'fore he met his own end," Tardo lamented.

"If'n y' ask me," said Log-a-Log, "Snoga didn't need no cursed sword t' bring him bad luck - that ornery villain was perfectly capable o' makin' all his own bad luck t' last him several lifetimes!" He grimaced as his gaze travelled the courtyard turned graveyard. So many of these shrews he'd known from their time in the Guosim - a few he had even once called friends - and now it had come to this. "What do y' call that weapon you used on 'em?" he asked Urthblood.

"It has no name, yet. It is a chemical compound which, like the Flitchaye gas, produces dense vapors. Unlike the Flitchaye gas, however, those vapors do not render a beast unconscious but rather attack its more sensitive tissues. It sears the lungs and airways if inhaled, irritates the eyes upon contact, and in sufficient concentrations can even blister the skin beneath the fur."

"Looks like y' had 'sufficient concentration' here then, sir," Tardo assessed.

"I had Scarbatta's gulls deliver my entire stock of this compound to this target. It was only luck that Snoga had his entire force gathered in this yard. The high walls surrounding them on all sides made it the perfect situation for the use of this weapon. I could not have asked for more ideal conditions."

"So, basically, you poisoned them all?" Log-a-Log ventured in a half-question, half-accusation.

The Badger Lord's impassive gaze met the Guosim chieftain's without flinching. "I would not classify it as a poison, no, not anymore than I would call the glass vitriol a poison."

"Then what th' blazes would ya call it?" Log-a-Log exploded.

"Something new," Urthblood replied calmly. "These are new times we are living in, when the powers of longtime enemies attain unprecedented heights, when former adversaries can become allies and even the bitterest of foes may hope to settle their differences peacefully and thus avoid total disaster, but when new threats like Snoga can also arise. It is a time of a new order upon the lands, a time of grand promise and all-encompassing danger. Such times call for new ways to meet unforeseen menaces to the goodbeasts of Mossflower and beyond. New tactics and strategies, new policies ... and, yes, new weapons too."

Tardo regarded the grisly scene around him. Many of his shrews had already tied kerchiefs over their noses to ward off the stench, and he was about ready to do the same. "What're we gonna do with all these bodies, M'Lord? They ain't dangerous t' touch, are they?"

"No moreso than any other creatures who have fallen in battle. They were struck down by a chemical, not a disease. There is no way you can contract what killed them. It has all safely dissipated by now."

Log-a-Log cast an eye toward the castle, the rat inhabitants of which had yet to show themselves. "Guess somebeast needs t' tell them that, huh?"

Tardo's focus remained on the victims of Urthblood's newest weapon. "Burn 'em, or bury 'em? They been left layin' in th' sun fer too long already."

"Dig a grave for Hanchett - he deserves that much. Build a funeral pyre for the rest, far enough from the castle grounds so that the smoke will not pollute our breathing air anymore than it already is. Somebeasts do still live here." The badger's gaze went to the edifice towering above them. "Or so I assume."

As if on cue, a sound of battering, knocking and scraping came from behind the locked doors. When the rats within had refused - for whatever reason - to respond to the badger warrior's hails, Urthblood had dispatched his present contingent of Gawtrybe to scale the castle walls from the outside and gain entry by the upper windows. The fearless squirrels were equal to the task, and had now either convinced the resident rats to admit Urthblood or had taken charge of doing so themselves.

With the last of the internal barricade pulled aside with a scrape and a thump, the door creaked open to reveal a solitary red-furred, tufted-eared head sticking out into the daylight. Blinking at his badger master, the Gawtrybe squirrel reported, "Don't get your burial plans all finalized yet, sir. We got some more bodies in here."

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The rest of that long day was devoted to the disposal of the dead.

Many of the native water rats had made it through the attack unscathed, but a great many more had not; the sheer volume and concentration of the caustic vapors saw to that. Enough of the "yellow death" found its way in through the open windows overlooking the courtyard to sicken any number of rats who'd sought a commanding view of the seagull assault. Some died on the spot while others, having inhaled a fatal dose of the toxic fumes, withdrew to inner chambers in time only to delay their deaths by hours or days. The afflicted rats ranged in age from youngbeasts to oldsters, but Urthblood's newest weapon did not discriminate based on seasons or gender; once enough of it had been inhaled, the victim's fate was sealed.

Urthblood did all he could to soothe the surviving water rats and allay their fears. The natives were indeed terrified of this lung-scarring malady that resisted all the best efforts of their healing lore, fearful both that it might spread throughout their limited population and that the deadly gulls might return to drop more of the life-suffocating substance upon them. Urthblood assured them that the seabirds had flown back to the coast far away and would remain there, and that the affliction was not contagious. To demonstrate good will he assigned his troops to dig additional graves, one for each rat who'd died, and helped the survivors see their kith and kin off from this world.

For those still laid low, however, there was little to do but wait. The rats who were healthy had their trepidation assuaged by the sight of the mighty badger and his stalwart squirrel healers moving among the sick without fear, and assumed that this meant the afflicted rats could be saved. Salvation, however, lay beyond even Urthblood's skills in this instance. Some would live beyond season's end, although they would carry the scars from this incident with them for the rest of their days, while others were doomed, and not even Urthblood had the power to change this.

One of the squirrels, clearly affected by the pleas of several healthy rats who agonized over the plight of their loved ones, approached the badger as afternoon straddled evening. "They really wanna know if there isn't something more we can do for them, sir."

"There is no cure for their condition," Urthblood informed the Gawtrybe archer. "Either they will live, or they will not. Make them as comfortable as you can. The rest is up to fate."

As darkness fell over the island, a massive bonfire blazed upon the northwest shore, consuming the inanimate husks of the shrews and otters who had dared to oppose Lord Urthblood and attack his Mossflower garrisons. By morning, little would be left of them but ash and a few charred bones. Snoga received no special consideration in death to match his infamy in life; his corpse burned on the same pyre with all the rest, and once the flames subsided, his remains would be indistinguishable from anybeast else's.

After the day and two nights of rowing to reach the island, followed by the taxing burial duties of having to deal with so many deadbeasts, Urthblood's troops were ready for a good night's sleep and then some. Throughout Castle Marl, shrews and squirrels helped themselves to any vacant beds they could find, or sacked out on the floor on spare blankets and cushions. The water rats, who'd lost so many of their numbers this season to Snoga's bloodthirstiness and now the gas attack, made no protest as their abode was overrun by strangers for the second time since mid-spring.

Down in one of the larger cellar rooms, meanwhile, Saybrook's otters gathered behind closed doors ... and sleep was the last thing on their minds.

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In the hour before dawn, Tardo found himself being shaken awake by a heavy paw on his shoulder. Blinking his eyes open as he shook off his interrupted dreams, he stared up into the solemn face of his fellow captain.

"Saybrook? What is it, matey?"

"Got somethin' I gotta tell ya, li'l buddy. It's an otter matter, but after ev'rything you 'n' me went through t'gether battlin' those searats last winter, I felt I hadta letcha know. Wouldn'ta been right not to."

And so Saybrook told him.

Tardo's eyes went wide as the implications of the otter's words sank in. The shrew captain had claimed one of the smaller, private rooms in the castle for himself, and the two beasts were alone in the hushed darkness of night's final hour before daybreak. Tardo wondered whether Saybrook would have chosen to confide in him had others been present to overhear.

"Jus' ... like that?" he asked in disbelief.

"We talked about it 'til t'was all talked out," Saybrook said. "It's what we gotta do."

"But ... but ... ye're an officer! You an' yer otters're soldiers!"

"You saw them shrews lyin' out in that courtyard ... an' those otters too. You saw their faces. Can you honestly say ye'll sleep well fer th' rest o' yore seasons after bein' a part o' that?"

Tardo shrugged. "I was doin' pretty well 'fore you roused me. An' as fer Snoga's gang, t'was no worse'n seein' yer mates blasted t' bits along th' seacoast - or cleanin' up th' dead at Doublegate."

"Naw, it's worse, Tards. There's a difference 'tween dyin' in a real battle - even one usin' them searat thunderkegs - an' this."

"Have y' told Lord Urthblood yet?"

"No. Got a letter drafted that pretty well covers it, signed by ev'ry otter in th' squad. Figgered that'd do."

Tardo digested this for a long time, then said, "I gotta tell 'im, y' know."

"If you feel you hafta, I'll not hold it against you."

"I mean, there's no way I can just sit here, knowin' what y' just told me, an' not report it. I'm still 'is captain, after all ... "

"You sound like yore tryin' to convince yoreself, matey, an' awful hard too. Me, I'm figgerin' that if he's got th' power o' prophecy, he'll already know what we're all about. Now, if either you or Urthblood wants us, you know where we'll be." Saybrook rose from Tardo's bedside, turned and strode from the room without a backward glance.

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"Captain, what is going on here?"

Urthblood stood at the water's edge, his crimson armor a dark brown in the first gray light of day, Captain Tardo fidgeting nervously at his side. The Badger Lord had not in fact been waiting out here for Saybrook's otters as some among that group had half-expected, and might not be here at all if his loyal shrew commander had not tracked him down in the castle and alerted him.

The otters had taken over four of the larger logboats for their own, stocking them with provisions to last them a journey of many days. Most of the waterbeasts were already seated in the craft, oars in paw as they looked back to their captain, awaiting the final orders to push off.

Saybrook stood his ground as he presented Urthblood with the letter he and his otters had drafted only hours before. "I'm resignin' from yore service, sir. We all are."

Urthblood barely glanced at the short paw-written note. "Your resignation is not accepted, Captain. Now order your otters ashore, and let us discuss the matter in a fashion more becoming an officer and his Lord."

No otter moved from its spot in the boats, anxiously watching to see how their Skipper would respond.

"Nothing to discuss, sir. We all hashed this out last night, an' our minds are made up. We will no longer serve in yore army, or take yore orders. We declare ourselves freebeasts, an' we're goin' our own way."

"I cannot allow this, Captain. We are in a time of war. Your otters may prove essential to the war effort."

"War effort?" Saybrook gave a hollow laugh. "Most o' th' beasts who attacked Doublegate're dead, an' yore in th' midst o' makin' peace with Tratton. Even if those negotiations don't pan out, you got Scarbatta an' his gulls t' drop fire on their ships ... or mebbe poison gas, since it seems to've worked so well here. You don't need us otters anymore."

"Captain, if you or any of your squad departs from this island without my permission, you will be deserters."

"Call us whate'er ye like, but we're leavin'. After what you had yore gulls do yesterday t' them shrews an' otters, I don't see as how yore in any position t' claim moral high ground or question anybeast's honor."

"My tactical decisions are a separate matter, and not pertinent to our present discussion."

"If you honestly b'lieve that, then we really ain't got anything more t' say to each other. I've heard ye say many times over th' seasons that you've never forced anybeast t' serve you 'gainst their will. Question now is, were those all just lies?"

The defiant challenge with which the otter issued this inquiry told both Urthblood and Tardo that this situation had moved beyond the point of discussion. Words alone would not dissuade Saybrook's otters from defecting.

"You are soldiers, with sworn duties to uphold."

"Not anymore we ain't. Not after yesterday. We're headin' back to our homes in th' Northlands. If any foe ever threatens Noonvale or th' territories 'round it, we'll be there t' defend 'em. Otherwise, our campaignin' days're over."

With that, Saybrook turned his back on Urthblood and climbed down into his logboats along with the last few stragglers of his squad who tarried on shore. As soon as all were settled into their places, the boats shot out onto the calm silver waters, driven by the powerful oarstrokes of the brawny otters.

More than one glanced back over their shoulders for apprehensive last looks at the stolid Badger Lord, but Saybrook was not among them.

Tardo blinked up at Urthblood. "M'Lord, what just happened here?"

"A miscalculation," the red-armored warrior growled, then spun on his heel and strode back through the ruined courtyard gate, his demeanor impossible to read.


	9. Chapter 121

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

The news of the otters' defection spread quickly through the ranks as Urthblood's troops awoke to greet the blossoming day. Nobeast knew what to make of it, for no such thing had ever happened in the twenty-five season history of the Badger Lord's campaigns. And while a number of Tardo's shrews had been nearly as horrified at what had been done to Snoga's True Guosim as Saybrook was, none of them could see this as reason for desertion. Snoga and his followers were the enemy, after all, who'd attacked Lord Urthblood's garrisons without provocation not once but twice, and had proven themselves a danger to Mossflower at large. That gave the badger warrior the right to settle matters with these deadly outlaws as he saw fit, and this he had done, using his birds and a terrible new weapon whose use here should give pause to any other potential adversary who would dare contemplate opposing Urthblood. Any of Tardo's shrews who might have been tempted to feel pity or outrage over the fate of their foe had only to recall all of their slain comrades at Doublegate to be reminded that Snoga had gotten only what he deserved.

Log-a-Log found confusion and turmoil raging within his own heart. Words alone could never convey the full horror of what had greeted them in the castle courtyard, but since he was the only member of the Guosim to have journeyed out here with the badger's forces, his fellows would never know what it was like to stand amidst so much twisted death. As for how he felt about it, well, Snoga had been his enemy too, after all, and so by extension were all the former Guosim who'd joined him. And he would always be indebted to Urthblood for rescuing Pirkko from the same creatures who'd allied themselves with Snoga in this latest attack on Mossflower. Who was he to condemn his son's savior for disposing of this menace to the lands, even if the methods chosen to do so seemed spawned from the other side of Hellsgates themselves?

The Gawtrybe, like Tardo's shrews, did not question their master about a single thing concerning this entire affair, save one: they wanted to know why they'd not been summoned to keep Saybrook's squad on the island by force. As fanatically loyal as Urthblood's shrews remained toward him, the squirrel archers' devotion stood several steps beyond that. Tardo and Log-a-Log were glad the badger had not seen fit to summon his Gawtrybe; given the stubborn determination of Saybrook to abandon them, such a confrontation could well have led to bloodshed and further loss of life. The two shrew commanders shared the belief that this island had seen enough death this season.

Even though the water rats had suffered losses from the seagull attack that Urthblood had ordered, they too felt that they were in the badger's debt for ridding them of the shrew tyrant who'd returned to place them once more under the yoke of servitude and oppression. They also saw that Urthblood had made a sincere effort to aid them with their dead and stricken. Thus, when it came time for breakfast, the rats willingly offered free access to their stocks of food and drink for the benefit of their liberators. It was not nearly so rich and flavorful a variety as was to be found at Redwall - indeed, it barely rivaled the fare at Salamandastron - but nonetheless the Northland warriors ate better than they had in many days.

An awkward mood hung over the morning meal as Urthblood's forces took their breakfast in the central dining hall of Castle Marl. It would have been a perfect day for taking their first meal out in the open courtyard, but the memory of what had happened there rendered that place wholly unsuitable for enjoying any kind of repast. Even here in the spacious dining chamber, with several walls separating them from that scene of horrors, appetites were dimmed from what they might otherwise have been. The incident with the otters only added to the uncomfortable hush that hung over the breakfasters. At last Tardo ventured to break the near-silence.

"So, Lord," he said to Urthblood, seated at the shrew captain's left paw, "this place has lotsa possibilities. A staunch fortress, easily defensible. Think you'll strike a bargain with these rats, mebbe even take some of 'em inta yer service, an' make this island one o' yer garrisons? It'd go a long way toward makin' up fer Doublegate's loss."

"Defensible against what, Captain? We are in the middle of an inland sea, two days from the mainland in every direction. What enemy would bother to stage an attack upon such an impractical target? And on the subject of impracticality, any troops I station here would effectively be cut off from the rest of the lands. Even with my birds to keep open the lines of communication, how would they mobilize if they were to be needed elsewhere? As for these rats, they are farmers, about as warlike as the average fieldmouse. They were utterly helpless in the face of Snoga's conquest of their island last season. I do not think the warrior's life would suit them, even if any were interested in undertaking such a challenge. I deem they have known enough strife, and desire only to return to the peaceful existence that was shattered when the events of the wider world beyond this lake intruded upon their sheltered refuge here. We will leave them to themselves. Other matters elsewhere demand our attention now."

"The searats, y' mean?"

Urthblood nodded. "Tratton awaits me, and I will not keep him waiting a day longer than necessary. The prompt return of Scarbatta's gulls will be sure to keep Salamandastron safe, but the Searat King might grow impatient and leave for Terramort if I do not soon return myself."

"You still mean t' negotiate with him," asked Log-a-Log from Urthblood's other side, "even after ... all this?"

"A peace accord that puts an end to this war once and for all will prevent such things from ever happening again. I am not ready to abandon these efforts just yet."

"So," Tardo asked in a jaundiced tone, "them searats who helped Snoga attack Doublegate're just gonna get away clean?"

"I did not say that." Urthblood surveyed all the shrews and squirrels sharing the long table with him. "I see many of you have stingy appetites this morning. I would advise you all to eat well, even if the mood does not suit you. You will need the energy for our return trip. We will be leaving immediately after breakfast."

"So soon?" Tardo exclaimed in surprise. "But, we only just got here!"

"We have seen to everything we came here for. There is no reason for us to tarry here any longer, and every reason to be off as soon as possible." Urthblood stood and strode from the dining hall.

Out in the deserted courtyard, the badger called Altidor and Klystra down to him from their perches high atop the castle roof. Eagle and falcon pushed off from their roosting places and spiraled down to their master.

"Captain, Commodore ... you have both proven invaluable in this mission, and I am most appreciative of your efforts. You have had two days to rest, waiting for me to arrive and see to matters on this island, and now it is time for me to ask you to fly again ... "

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Not long after the two raptors took off for the southwest, the rest of Urthblood's forces made their own departure from the island.

The logboat fleet that paddled its way back to the lakeshore was both much larger and more sparsely crewed than the one that had borne the Badger Lord out to the isolated castle. Urthblood had decided to lay claim to all of Snoga's craft as well, so that his entire company of Northlanders could navigate the broadstream back to the _Goodwill_, and reach the trader vessel in a fraction of the time it would take if they retraced their march along the south riverbank. Certainly none of Snoga's True Guosim would ever be needing their boats again.

Tucked at the badger's feet in the bottom of the logboat he shared with Log-a-Log lay the last remaining cask of stormpowder, retrieved from its treetop hiding place by Klystra. What he would do with it Urthblood still wasn't entirely sure, but at the very least it should provide some interesting opportunities for analysis.

They arrived at the western shore of the lake on the second evening of their return voyage. Captain Tardo immediately filled in the rest of his shrews on all that had happened on the island, while Log-a-Log did likewise with the Guosim. Everybeast who'd been waiting ashore was shocked to learn of the otters' defection, although some could easily understand why they might have chosen such a course of action once the aftermath of the seagull attack had been described. Still, many of Urthblood's shrews had served side by side with Saybrook's otters for seasons, and it was strange to think that the formidable waterbeasts would no longer be a part of the badger warrior's army.

Altidor awaited Urthblood on shore. Badger and eagle met off in one corner of the campsite even as some of the other shrews and squirrels were still disembarking from the logboats and getting back their land legs.

"The searats with the catapults have reached the coastal mining camp," Altidor reported. "They appear to be re-installing those siege weapons on the warship from which they were taken."

"Are any of Tratton's steel ships to be seen at that site?"

"No, Lord. Just the frigate, a larger cargo ship, and a small craft which looks as if it would only hold a dozen or so rats."

"Yes, I have heard Scarbatta talk of these smaller, narrow boats. Apparently they are capable of impressive speeds out on the open main. Messenger craft, unless I miss my guess. But still made out of wood, with sails of canvas."

"That appears to be so. What are your orders, Lord?"

Urthblood pondered his next move aloud. "If I were to interrogate any of those rats and discover that they were acting under Tratton's orders, I would be hard-pressed to let such a thing go unanswered, or ignore treachery of that magnitude. I would be left virtually no choice but to break off these peace talks and resume this ruinous war."

"Still, better to know for certain than to remain in the dark."

"Not necessarily, Commodore. I am, after all, the one who initiated these negotiations, because the war had reached a point where I held the upper paw and could deal with Tratton from a position of strength. Perhaps this affair was his attempt to tip the balance back in his favor somewhat, by recapturing his underwater vessel and inflicting heavy damage to my land forces - a clear demonstration that he is capable of bypassing Salamandastron and striking deep into Mossflower itself. If that is the case, then perhaps my freedom of action will remain less limited if I do not have it confirmed ... "

Altidor did not fully grasp what his badger master was getting at. "But, if Tratton was behind this, then you must retaliate."

"The question is not whether I will retaliate, but whether the peace talks are doomed. If those rats who helped Snoga were acting on their own, and I proceed on that assumption, that will grant me choices I would not otherwise have."

"I do not understand, Lord."

"Diplomacy is never as straightforward as war, Commodore. There is so much more to consider - compromises to be made, appearances to be kept up. And if both sides cannot leave the table able to convince their own followers that they got the best half of the bargain, then the accord they reach cannot be worth much." Urthblood looked to the sky. "It grows late. Rest here tonight with the main company. I will think about this, and give you your orders in the morning. Klystra is perfectly capable of keeping the searats under surveillance until then."

"Yes, Lord."

The eagle was as glad for the night's rest as were the shrews and squirrels who'd spent two days and a night rowing from the island to the mainland. All woke refreshed and revitalized at the crack of dawn, ready for another day of travelling after a simple yet hardy breakfast. When Urthblood did at last dispatch Altidor with his new instructions, the other creatures couldn't fail to notice that the bird took off to the northwest, not the southwest from whence he'd come.

"Gettin' the status o' things at Salamandastron, M'Lord?" Tardo asked.

"Among other things." The badger turned to Log-a-Log. "This is where our paths part, friend. I must thank you and the Guosim for your help."

The shrew chieftain shrugged. "Truth t' tell, feels more like I was was just along fer th' ride more'n anything else. Not like we did a whole lot along th' way, or helped you fight yer battle at the end. Remind me never t' get on yer bad side, M'Lord."

"I cannot see that happening. So, where will you go now? I regret that I am leaving you with no boats, but they are all needed to bear my troops downriver."

"Aw, that's no big deal - you need 'em more'n we do. We still got half th' summer an' some o' fall t' get in our fair measure o' wanderin' 'fore we head up t' Redwall fer th' winter. Ain't never been t' this big ol' lake before, so we might just spend th' rest o' this season explorin' its shores. Keldi seems like a good sort, an' he vouches for Tasnuva an' all th' rest o' the local tribes hereabouts. After their dealin's with Snoga left such a bad taste in their mouths, we gotta do a little tour of our own an' show 'em what th' real Guosim are like!" Log-a-Log glanced toward Tardo's shrews. "So, uh, they all headin' back to Salamandastron with you?"

Urthblood nodded. "Their garrison is destroyed, the searat vessel sunk. If I can reach an accord with Tratton, then it may no longer prove necessary to guard Mossflower's waterways at all. Let us hope that this latest explosion of violence will be the last we see for many a generation to come."

"Amen t' that. M'Lord. Tho', when it comes t' this business o' treatin' with searats, better you than me is all I can say!"

"When we reach the _Goodwill_, we will have no further use for these logboats. Captain Ramjohn's vessel has room enough to bear my entire company back to the mountain. I will leave them beached on the south banks of the broadstream. If you should change your mind about using them, they will lie only two or three day's march from here."

"Thank you, M'Lord. We'll keep that in mind. Good journeyin' to ye!"

"And to you, good shrews."

Before the sun had climbed high in the sky, Urthblood's force was shooting down the river. With no stops for lunch or dinner, they reached the _Goodwill_ by nightfall. Altidor stood waiting for the badger aboard the trader ship.

"It is done, Lord," the eagle informed Urthblood.

"It went well?"

"Captain Scarbatta displayed some indignation about being called out on another mission so soon, but those gulls will never pass up a chance to slay searats, for all that they might grouse. The ships to the south were all smaller than dreadnoughts, except perhaps for the cargo vessel, but it was bulky and undercrewed and made for a very easy target. We were able to take care of everything in a single wave - even the buildings."

"And the Gawtrybe?"

"A detachment of fifty are headed south from Salamandastron at this very moment, as you ordered. They will have their work cut out for them. Many of the searats survived."

"Not for long. Thank you, Commodore. You have done well."

After bird and badger had parted, Ramjohn and Tardo approached Urthblood. "Anything th' matter, M'Lord?" the shrew captain inquired.

"Nothing that was not anticipated, and planned for." To the mouse he said, "Thank you for waiting here, Captain. Without your help, this matter could not have been resolved so quickly nor so satisfactorily. I am most grateful."

"Huh, not like I was gonna go runnin' off once I was here, with no proper crew an' my prow pointed the wrong way up this river, with no way to unfurl my sails either! I'll be needin' your beastpower t' get us back to where we can turn about an' get aimed seaward again. Um, speakin' o' which, where's your otters?"

"The Northlands called to them," said Urthblood. "They will not be returning with us to Salamandastron."

"No? Aw, that's too bad. Really coulda used their brawn. Oh, well, guess we'll justa hafta make do without 'em."

Tardo eyed Urthblood knowingly. "Aye, guess we will ... from now on."

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Tratton felt trapped on the horns of a dilemma.

With each day that passed uneventfully, the urge grew within the Searat King to be gone from this place, no matter what repercussions it might have in his conflict with Urthblood. But every time the temptation to flee back to the security of Terramort threatened to become overwhelming, something else would happen on shore that made him rethink the situation.

On this morning - well past breakfast but still well before noon - Tratton stood with Korba on the top deck of the _Wedge_, drinking in the salt-tinged sunshine. Many of the same thoughts apparently tumbled through the head of the intelligence rat-turned-negotiator, although Korba seemed far more inclined to speak them aloud.

"I can't figger it, Sire. First, Urthblood goes rushin' off, an' we hear not so much as a peep from him from that day t' this. Then, his entire strength o' gulls goes flyin' away to who knows where, but they're all back at Salamandastron by that very nightfall. Then another long string of days with not a thing happening, followed by another flight by all his gulls, but once again they're back by sundown. An' what was with those threescore squirrels who went marchin' outta there yesterday on the heels of the gulls? They looked like they were in an awful hurry, bustin' their bushtails south."

"Reinforcements, obviously," answered the half-listening naval tyrant. "Since Urthblood has no boats of his own, they have to travel on foot, and try to make the best time they can. As for the seagulls, both times they left Salamandastron fully laden with weapons, but returned empty-taloned. We can only assume that they delivered their full measure of destruction upon whatever targets in Mossflower Urthblood chose for them. I pity Kothar; if that badger is unleashing those kinds of forces against him, I doubt he and his rats will emerge from this alive."

Korba looked to Tratton. "But, Majesty, if that's so, then why're we stayin' here? If this war's still goin' on, an' Urthblood's still fightin' us, our flag of truce won't mean anything to him! He'll probably turn around an' attack us soon as he's done moppin' up Kothar an' those shrews!"

"No," Tratton slowly shook his head. "No, I don't think he will, Korba. Call it a feeling, a hunch ... You may have been the one negotiating with him this season, but I have sailed with him, and I daresay you learn more about a beast standing side-by-side with him at a ship's wheel than you do sitting across from him in formal negotiations. Not that Urthblood wasn't always mysterious and difficult to read. But I feel I've come to know how he operates, and it wouldn't be like him to attack us outright. Maybe he has something else in mind, something less direct, but if he extracts payment or punishment from us over this incident, it will be by some more subtle means than an all-out confrontation. I am sure of it."

Tratton lifted his arms up over his head and gave a twisting stretch to each side. "Korba, prepare the skiff. I am sorely in need of some fighting exercises, and there simply isn't enough room on the _Wedge_, not even up here on deck - that's one design flaw I must have Clucus see to on any future ships such as these that he builds. The _Darksky_ has a spacious and secure fencing hall belowdecks - I'll pay Captain Voccola a visit and get in some long-overdue practice while I'm there."

Korba's gaze slipped to the south. "Um, not t' deny Yer Majesty his pleasure, but I think you may wanna hold off on that, M'Lord. Aren't those sails I see comin' up this way along th' coast?"

Tratton had his long glass out in a moment, his magnified gaze trained upon the approaching trader vessel. "Well, well, well. It seems our mouse merchant has returned. And unless I miss my guess, I suspect we shall find that our wayward Badger Lord is aboard that ship as well." A cloud of uncertainty darkened the ratlord's face as he lowered the telescope. "But, if his gulls only just made their second attack yesterday ... and his squirrels who left around the same time must still be on their way to the scene of the battle ... why would he be returning now? This makes no sense ... "

"Well, if you don't know, Sire, I would not presume t' guess," Korba said cautiously.

For the next portion of the morning, Tratton stood rooted to his spot atop the _Wedge_, monitoring the approach of the _Goodwill_. Occasionally his gaze would stray to the mountain fortress rearing from the shore opposite him, or to the skies above the coastline, checking for any signs of winged attackers. But the sky remained clear, no threat emerged from Salamandastron, and the merchant ship plowed through the waves toward them revealing nothing of her mood or intent.

At one point, as Tratton studied the deck of the _Goodwill_ through his spyglass, straining to glimpse any detail which might yield a clue as to what lay in store, he happened to focus on Urthblood himself ... who stood staring back at the Searat King through a nearly identical instrument of his own. Tratton nearly dropped his long glass as a chill ran down his spine in spite of the warm summer sunshine, raising his hackles.

"Well," he muttered, "at least now he knows I'm here ... "

The midday sun hung almost directly overhead when the _Goodwill_ at last dropped anchor just south of Salamandastron and her landing boats began ferrying the passengers ashore. Tratton continued to watch these proceedings with acute interest.

"I see a lot of wounded being borne on stretchers up into Salamandastron," he observed out loud for Korba's benefit. "Looks like they're all shrews ... and not those headband-wearing Mossflower tribesbeasts either, but Urthblood's own. No sign of those shrews he left with, or his otters - just shrews and squirrels. Could be he left the others down south to keep on fighting, or to guard prisoners, or to staff his riverside shrew garrison where our steel ship was being held. Still can't figure out what that big red brute's on about ... but here he comes right now, strutting along the tideline like he owns the world! Let us see what he has in mind now ... "

The badger warrior did not stride up into his natural stronghold but instead stopped at the gently-lapping water's edge directly in front of the mountain citadel. There, facing the steel ship that lay well offshore, he made an unmistakable gesture.

"Korba," Tratton said, lowering his spyglass, "you can proceed with readying that landing boat after all. It appears Urthblood wishes to talk some more."

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In many ways, the scene unfolded like a replay of Korba's previous encounter with the Badger Lord, before the crimson badger had run off to settle matters with Snoga.

Urthblood stood on the wet sand, waves washing around his ankles and calves, straddling the line between land and sea. As the searat landing boat hove into the shallows a stone's throw away from the waiting warrior, bearing aboard it the false Viceroy and Korba's usual complement of guards, Urthblood raised his paw to halt them, just as he had the last time.

"I have spoken with you enough, Viceroy," the stentorian voice boomed out above the wave noise. "The time for this is past. I will speak with Tratton from now on, or I will speak with norat at all."

"My Lord, where have you been?" Korba asked, ignoring the badger's mandate. Tratton had wanted Korba to probe for any information he could glean about what had gone on to the south. Although he felt foolish playing such games with a creature like Urthblood, a direct order from the Lord of Terramort was not to be disobeyed. "Your departure was most sudden and unexpected. I trust all is well in the lands?"

"With Tratton, Viceroy. Not with you." Urthblood turned to leave.

Korba felt a claw of panic grip his heart. If he returned with nothing more than this dismissal to report, Tratton would be most displeased. In desperation he called out, "But, how is His Majesty supposed to meet with you if he knows nothing of your reasons for leaving so suddenly, or where you have been? He will want to know where the status of these peace talks stands ... "

Urthblood paused, looking back at Korba. "They stand precisely where we left them, Viceroy. Tratton knows all the terms and conditions, unless you have been keeping things from him. It is his place now to accept them or not, as it pleases him. The time for haggling over minor details is past. But this accord can be finalized before me by his paw and nobeast else's. Tell him I must meet with him face to face in order for these negotiations to proceed. And, if he is so curious as to my recent whereabouts, he can ask me himself."

"But ... but ... where will you meet? Surely you don't expect him to go up into Salamandastron ... ?"

"Are you suggesting that the full hospitality of my home, which you yourself have enjoyed without fail, should be withheld from no less a personage as King Tratton?"

"Oh, no, not at all - "

"Or are you saying that Tratton does not trust me?"

"No! Um, no, no, of course not, M'Lord! Er, I mean yes! Uh ... "

"I will meet with Tratton," Urthblood announced with finality. "If he does not wish to enter Salamandastron, for whatever reason, we will meet on neutral ground. I am sure some accommodation can be reached which will prove satisfactory to him. Now, I will be inside producing a final draft of the treaty. My birds will deliver it to you this evening when it is finished. Assuming your master finds no fault with it, I shall look forward to signing it with him on the morrow. Good day, Viceroy."

And this time, no plea or rejoinder on Korba's part could recall the badger from his imperious trek up the beach and into the mountain.


	10. Chapter 122

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two

The table sat on the beach halfway between Salamandastron and the tideline.

On the landward side of the table sat Urthblood, with Ramjohn at one paw and Matowick at the other. Behind them, nearly a hundred Gawtrybe archers stood in a neat rank, bows and quivers at the ready.

Across from the Badger Lord sat Tratton, the two royal bodyguards on either side of him no less tensed and ready than the Gawtrybe facing them ... or the nearly three hundred searat fighters lined up along the water's edge at his back.

The table represented an invisible line of demarcation. The woodlanders would stay to one side of it, the searats to the other. These were the terms which had finally lured Tratton out of the _Wedge_ and into face-to-face negotiations with Urthblood: that they would meet on open ground halfway between mountain and surf, and that the Searat King would be allowed to bring ashore as many of his troops as he felt were necessary to ensure his personal safety. Urthblood did not flinch at these conditions, not even when that number turned out to be nearly the entire fighting crews of both the _Darksky_ and the _Wavestrike_.

Those fighters had landed first, of course, along with Captains Voccola and Werrlich. If it came to a battle, the two commanders would be far more diligent in urging their troops to fight to the death if they themselves stood on the front lines. Tratton was not about to let either of them sit this out on the comparative safety of their ships while he ventured into a potential trap.

With these logistics worked out ahead of time, the searat army came ashore and took up their positions without incident. Several trips were needed by Tratton's full complement of available landing boats to ferry all the searat soldiers onto the beach, and the task took up most of the morning. Only when their full strength was in place did the ratlord deign to join them. Their formidable ranks parted to allow Tratton and his bodyguards to pass through them, and the sea tyrant warily strode forward to accept the seat offered him by Urthblood.

"An impressive force you have brought with you, Majesty," the badger observed. "I trust you feel sufficiently secure?"

Tratton eyed the Gawtrybe lined up behind Urthblood. "My rats here might outnumber your squirrels three-to-one, but I am well aware of their skills with bow and arrow. And I have seen with my own eyes what your seagulls can do to my ships. I hardly think you have anything to fear from me under the present circumstances."

"Then we understand each other perfectly. But let us not talk of such unpleasant possibilities, for I hope such things are now in our past. I know you would not be here unless you were genuinely interested in a truce. If you and I can work out a meaningful accord that leads to a lasting peace, there will be no need for my gulls to attack your ships ever again."

"That would be .. good, yes." Tratton could not allow himself to relax, not even in the face of Urthblood's accommodating demeanor. Or especially in the face of it. Tratton was a creature of treachery, who practiced it himself and expected it from those around him as a matter of course. He knew quite well that his red-armored adversary would not flinch from such methods either, and that he must remain on guard for any deception or trickery that Urthblood might have in mind, no matter how subtle. But, if this were all some elaborate trap, Tratton could not yet perceive how it might spring, other than a brute force attack by the badger warrior. Certainly, Urthblood could have had his gulls attack and burn the two wooden warships at any time before now; it would have been an easier thing to do while they carried their full crews, who could be dispatched along with their vessels in one fell swoop. Which was one reason Tratton had brought most of those rats ashore with him. If Urthblood tried anything, it would not be a simple matter of burning his enemy alive aboard their ships. The fighting force Tratton had at paw might just be enough to overwhelm the Badger Lord and slay him. Urthblood might still resort to treachery, but if so it would be at his own peril - and Tratton wanted to make sure the badger knew it.

"You have had ample opportunity to read over the copy of the treaty I had delivered to you yesterday, I trust?"

"I have," Tratton nodded. In truth, he'd had Korba read it to him aloud, in the event that Urthblood might have treated the parchment with poison in a bid to cut the head off the Searat Empire that way. Korba was still alive come morning, so either it was a very slow-acting poison or else such an assassination attempt was not to be part of Urthblood's strategy this time.

"And do you find the terms agreeable, Your Majesty? I tried to address all the concerns Viceroy Korba has raised in our numerous discussions. If there are any details with which you find fault, I can have another draft prepared."

"That will not be necessary. These terms are ... agreeable." Tratton almost said "generous," but in case these proceedings were genuine, he knew better than to concede too much. The language of the accord was simple and straightforward, with no loopholes or hidden traps that Tratton could detect. Korba had read the entire document twice all the way through, and then Tratton had meticulously perused it himself, handling it with tongs so that the parchment never came into contact with his skin or fur. As for the content of the treaty, it did indeed encapsulate and formalize everything Korba had told Tratton they'd discussed in Salamandastron, with no confused wording and no surprise, last-moment additions or changes. If Urthblood truly meant to abide by these terms, it would be the best possible outcome for the Searat King. Short of total and decisive military victory, of course, but since that lay nowhere within his grasp, this was the next best thing.

"Very well then." Urthblood nodded to Matowick, who produced another parchment, unrolled it and slid it across the table toward Tratton. "In anticipation of your acceptance, I had another copy of the treaty prepared, so that you will have your own to take back with you to Terramort. I would strenuously encourage you to post it someplace where all your officers can see it, so that they too will be aware of these terms, and will be less likely to inadvertently violate them in the future, thus straining our new peace. We want to get started on the right foot, do we not?"

Urthblood's pointed tone strongly hinted at something that remained unspoken, a heavy awkwardness that hung in the air above the table between them. Tratton didn't need to be told what the badger was obliquely referring to, although the comment made him burn with curiosity all the more to know what had happened with Kothar, and just what Urthblood had been up to during his absence. These were questions, however, that Tratton dared not ask.

The searat ruler regarded the document the squirrel had pushed toward him; one of his bodyguards held the first copy that had been delivered to the _Wedge_ the evening before. "Which one is mine?"

"It will not matter, once both our signatures are affixed to the bottom of each one. Both are identical. However, you may wish to take a few minutes to read this second copy through and satisfy yourself that this is the case."

After a moment's hesitation, Tratton whispered a few hushed instructions to the bodyguard on his right, who unrolled the parchment and held it down flat so that his sovereign could examine the document without touching it. Then, to the surprise of many, Tratton withdrew a pair of reading spectacles from his tunic and balanced them on the bridge of his snout. The pirate king kept himself in such fine physical shape that it was easy to forget just looking at him that he was no youngbeast.

Tratton pored over the second treaty line by line, carefully analyzing and weighing each and every word. Yes, it was the same accord he'd read the previous night - if not word-for-word, then close enough that his memory detected no difference. Just to make sure, he had his guards produce the first scroll and unroll it so he could compare the two side by side. As far as he could tell, they were indeed identical. If Urthblood hoped to trick him into signing something he'd not fully read, no evidence of such a ploy was to be found by Tratton's scrutinizing eye.

"You are satisfied they are the same, Your Majesty?"

"I am."

"Then let us tarry no longer, and proceed with the signing." Urthblood pushed a pen and inkwell across to Tratton; the quill sticking up out of the small black pot was that of a seagull. "Captain Scarbatta donated a wing feather for this ceremony, to symbolize that his kind too will abide by these terms. You first, Your Majesty."

Tratton ignored the proffered writing instrument. "I brought my own pen and ink." Again, his bodyguards produced what their lord needed. Taking great care to allow only his pen tip to touch the parchments, Tratton scrawled his signature on the appropriate line of first one treaty then the other. "There. Your turn, My Lord."

With the ghost of a smirk on his face over Tratton's slight of diplomatic etiquette, Urthblood expediently used the seagull quill to add his own signature to the two documents, making no effort to keep his paw from coming into contact with the parchment ... which was just as well, since his missing paw forced him to use his left one. His writing came out surprisingly legible.

"There. It is done." The badger replaced Scarbatta's tailfeather pen in its pot. "May this usher in a new age of peaceful coexistence and cooperation between the searats and the creatures of the lands. Which copy did you prefer, Your Majesty?"

Tratton pointed to one at random, since it didn't seem to make any difference. One bodyguard retrieved it from the tabletop, carefully rolling it up to avoid smudging the fresh inks and tying it with a length of cord.

"I would invite you inside to sample the hospitality of Salamandastron, but I appreciate that your cautionary nature will not allow that. However, before you return to your ship and depart for Terramort, there is one more small matter that bears discussion ... "

Tratton froze, even as he forced his voice and expression to remain formally civil. Was this the expected trap about to spring? "Yes, My Lord?"

"I regret to inform you of an unfortunate incident that took place in lower Mossflower while your Viceroy and I were in negotiations. This was what forced me to depart in such haste. It seems some of your searats took part in an attack on my shrew garrison down there."

"Oh?" Tratton waited for Urthblood to go on, but the badger simply stared at him, his dark and unfathomable eyes penetrating past the rat's diplomatic demeanor with a cold intensity that demanded an answer. "I know nothing of this, My Lord," Tratton said at last in his most dismissive tone. "I never ordered such an attack."

Urthblood's piercing gaze relaxed, and in one horrible moment Tratton realized the trap had been sprung.

"Of course you knew nothing of it, Your Majesty. For you to have engaged in such a treacherous attack while we were in the midst of good faith negotiations would be grounds for abrogating any treaty and resuming the war - right here and now, if necessary."

Although Tratton held himself perfectly at ease, he felt sure that Urthblood could see him squirming inside. "I can assure you, My Lord, those rats were acting on their own, and initiated their operations without my prior knowledge. I trust your losses were not too serious?"

"Serious enough to warrant discussion here. But, now that you have confirmed my suspicions that those renegade rats were operating without your authority, I am greatly relieved. In fact, to demonstrate my dedication to our new relationship, and in the spirit of cooperation that I hope will flourish between us in the seasons ahead, I have done you the favor of taking care of this problem for you."

"Taking ... care of it?"

"Yes. I appreciated that having to discipline your own rats for causing an incident which might have jeopardized these negotiations would put you in an extremely awkward spot, so I took it upon myself to relieve you of this burden. Consider it a gesture of good will."

"What ... exactly ... did you do?"

"The renegade searats who perpetrated this transgression were based out of a coastal encampment of yours to the south, below Mossflower. I assume you are familiar with it: several simple wood buildings and a short dock, on a narrow beach backed by a mountainous inland region. Yesterday, I dispatched my gulls to attack that facility, just as my shrew garrison was attacked. I am happy to report that all those buildings are now burned to the ground, the pier is destroyed, and the two ships docked there - one warship and a larger cargo vessel - were sunk, along with a small boat that was surely of no consequence. Your problem is thus solved."

Tratton forced his expression to remain cool and civil even as he seethed inside. He'd known all along that Kothar's gambit might cost him if things went awry, but he'd hoped the price would not be so steep. The loss of the _Keelfang_ was bad enough, but the true body blow was the mining camp itself, and the freighter. That cargo ship was due to have picked up an entire season's quota of metal ores, material crucial to Tratton's ambitions of building more vessels like the Wedge. Now it was lost, along with the mine that would have provided boatloads more of that precious resource in the seasons to come. And then there was the Fleetrunner that Urthblood had dismissed as inconsequential; without that, Tratton might never know what happened between Kothar and the Northland shrews. He could certainly not count on Urthblood to provide a trustworthy account of those events.

"There is no need to thank me, Your Majesty. What I did, I did in the interest of peace. Fifty of my Gawtrybe squirrel archers are on their way down to the site as we speak, to take care of any survivors. I passed them yesterday on the Goodwill - they make excellent progress. My birds are flying cover for them, and will of course notify me at once if they should encounter any ... difficulties."

Urthblood's veiled meaning was crystal clear. Tratton dared not move to stop those squirrels before they reached the mining site, or Urthblood would know of it - and would take action to protect his troops. The Searat King felt he'd lost enough in this affair; he didn't need to add another of his warships to that list.

"Now, it seems to me," the badger rumbled on, "that the losses I incurred as a result of this incident entitle me to some manner of compensation. I helped you by taking care of your disobedient underlings whose foolhardy actions might have destroyed any chances for peace. I think it would be only proper for you to repay my gesture with one of your own."

"I would like nothing better," Tratton bit off. If Urthblood's notion of a "favor" was his annihilation of the searat mining camp, Tratton would delight in answering in kind ... all in the name of peace, of course. Unfortunately, he very much doubted circumstances would allow him such an opportunity, now that the accord had been signed. "What did you have in mind?"

"Just a small matter that was not addressed in the main treaty. Your slaves, Majesty."

"That was addressed in the treaty, My Lord. Article Four, if memory serves me correctly ... "

"That provision only prohibited the collection of new slaves from vessels boarded at sea or from the lands. It did not cover the slaves you already hold in bondage. I must insist that they be freed. All of them."

Tratton digested this wordlessly. Would he be willing to release all his slaves? In truth, he had no problem with that at all, in principle. He already got along fine without them on Terramort and in all of his more important naval craft; it would simply be a matter of cleansing his lesser frigates, galleons and work camps of the chained rabble. A few of his commanders who'd grown overly dependent on that forced labor might grouse a bit, but none would defy a direct order from the throne - not after the way the last officers' rebellion had turned out. Tratton would almost be glad to be rid of them.

For Urthblood, however, this would be no small matter. For him to gain the freedom of every woodland slave in the searat realm would grant him the status of the grand liberator of these times, elevate him in the eyes of every Mossflowerian and Northlander and Southswarder who cherished such things. The badger knew exactly what to ask for, in terms of what would inconvenience Tratton least while bolstering Urthblood the most.

For this very reason, he must not appear too willing to concede this point. Urthblood obviously viewed this as a major demand, or else he would not have taken such pains to maneuver the discussion to this juncture. And it could not be denied that giving up all his slaves would lead to at least some slowdowns in his various schedules. So, he was not entirely feigning hardship when he answered, "This is quite a thing you ask of me, My Lord."

In an abrupt change of subject, Urthblood said in an almost musing tone, "I am sure that if my squirrels reach the site south of here and succeed in capturing any of those rats alive, none will claim you were aware of their operation against my forces in Mossflower. I should say, however, that your cooperation in the matter of releasing your slaves would go a long way toward my overlooking any doubts that may come to light over just how independently those rats were acting."

Tratton chewed this over. Yes, there was always a chance that some of Kothar and Gormillion's rats would allow themselves to be taken alive, and a chance that they would reveal under interrogation that they had in fact been in communication with Tratton. Was Urthblood actually saying he would violate the accord they'd just signed and resume the war if the slaves were not freed? That was certainly what it sounded like, although of course the badger warrior had tactfully avoided coming right out and saying it.

"I am certain none of my rats would make such an erroneous claim, even if they fancy for some reason that such a thing is what you want to hear. But to liberate every slave in my empire at once ... that will pose undeniable hardships ... "

"I can appreciate that. Which is why I am prepared to offer a most generous countercompensation to ease your transition to an all-rat kingdom, while keeping it just that. I have even prepared an addendum to the main accord to make it official." Another nod from the badger, and Matowick produced two more sheets of parchment from a sheaf and slid them across the table toward Tratton.

The sea tyrant regarded the paper for a moment without reaction. He didn't think he would survive anymore of Urthblood's "generosity," and wondered what this latest overture would cost him. Nevertheless, he put on his glasses once more and perused the short document.

When he was finished, he glanced up at Urthblood in surprise. "Your rats? You want to give me your rats?"

"It seems only fair, since I am asking you to give up a large segment of your labor pool. And I did not think you would trust any of my other creatures."

As if I can trust your rats either, Tratton thought. This had to be some kind of trick, a way for Urthblood to get his armed troops aboard Tratton's vessels. Well, he would nip it in the bud before it got out of paw. He would not be maneuvered into another trap.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow your armed soldiers aboard my warships, My Lord. That simply would not do."

"Then disarm them, if it pleases you to do so. I am granting them to you as reserve labor, not as fighters."

This surprised Tratton. "It would be necessary to restrict them to certain parts of the ship."

"There is nothing in the agreement prohibiting that."

It was clear from the way Matowick and Ramjohn were staring at Urthblood that this issue was as much a surprise to them as it had been to Tratton himself. Could it be that Urthblood had not discussed this matter with any of his captains before officially presenting the proposal? Might the badger's rats be sitting inside Salamandastron this very moment, unaware that their master was bartering them away in exchange for the slaves?

Tratton re-examined the situation from all angles. If he agreed to take Urthblood's rats aboard his ships, that might provide insurance against the badger having his gulls fire anymore searat vessels ... unless these rats were not his trusted soldiers after all, but just some rabble Urthblood wanted to be rid of. Either way, be they rats or no, he would not trust them anymore than he trusted his slaves ... and that was all the freedom he was prepared to give them as well.

But the main thing here was to agree to the release of the slaves and thus satisfy Urthblood's primary demand. Perhaps this swapping of woodland rats for the slaves was a mere face-saving incentive, so that Tratton could surrender his captives and look like he'd be getting something in return. The main thing he'd be getting - the thing that had compelled him to voyage here from Terramort in the first place - was an end to this war, with his empire still more or less intact. Barring some last-moment treachery on Urthblood's part, it was looking as if he would walk away with just that. The terms of the main treaty were indeed more generous than he'd had any reason to expect, and giving up the slaves would be a minor nuisance in comparison.

Tratton read the rider to the treaty a second time. It was even more straightforward in its language and wording than the parent document, and quite a bit shorter too. But something caught his eye that he had missed before.

"My Lord, what of this phrase promising me 'all rats in your domain?' What exactly does that mean?"

"Just what it says, Your Majesty - if you release your slaves, you will receive the rats of the lands in exchange."

"That sounds almost like a hostage exchange."

"My rats are not hostages," said Urthblood. "They are beasts in my service, and will follow my orders - even if those orders are to follow your orders."

Tratton could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "But, you just said, 'the rats of the lands' ... "

Urthblood nodded. "In the interests of peace, this is the sacrifice I am willing to make. Sign that agreement, and the rats of the lands will be delivered to you to strengthen your realm. This way, all rats will have a single, unified empire to call their own, apart from the creatures of the lands. Your kingdom, and my dominion, side by side - the two great powers in this part of the world, coexisting in peaceful cooperation, bolstering each other and each respectful of the other's sovereignty."

"All rats, you say?"

"Will become your subjects, yes. A realm of rats for the seas, and a realm of woodlanders for the lands."

"And if some choose not to join in my realm?"

"I can be very persuasive, Your Majesty. As you yourself should realize by now."

Tratton read the agreement a third time. He could find no hidden trap, and nothing that would contradict the main accord. And, since it was abundantly clear that Urthblood would not let him leave this table until the slaves' release had been secured ...

"Very well," Tratton said. Again producing his personal inkwell, he took his pen in paw once more ...

00000000000

When the _Wedge_, the _Wavestrike_ and the _Darksky_ sailed from Salamandastron that same evening on their way back to Terramort, over a score and a half of Northlander woodland rats helped Tratton's rowers in the galleys of the frigate and galleon. This went a long way toward making up for the nearly threescore oarslaves who'd been liberated from their chains and released into the custody of the Badger Lord. Those gaunt and whip-scarred creatures could not fathom this abrupt reversal of their fortunes as they found themselves inside the mountain fortress being lavished with their first real baths in seasons and a spread of food the likes of which they had never dared hope to see again in their lives.

Tratton had his copies of the two agreements, and Urthblood retained the others, all signed with Ramjohn and Matowick as witnesses. For the first time in history, a Lord of the Mountain and a great Searat King had formally acknowledged each other's legal sovereignty and recognized the rightful power each exercised over their respective domains. Never before had two such mighty rulers, at such deadly odds, worked out an agreement which would allow them to exist side by side in peace, however wary and uncertain that peace might be. Neither leader suffered under the illusion that there would not be some inevitable rough spots and bumps in the road on the way to the normalization of relations; it would, for example, take upwards of a season for Tratton to spread the word to all of his ships and islands that all slaves were to be released, and that every officer of the searat empire must now abide by the provisions of the accord. But since this was something totally new and without precedent, leeway would naturally be given to overlook any unfortunate incidents that transpired along the path to a permanent peace.

Amongst the guardians of Salamandastron, reservations ran rampant. Many had assumed that these negotiations could not possibly result in any kind of real treaty, that the Searat King would never sit across the bargaining table from Urthblood. The way Korba had been dragging out these talks and so obviously stalling at every turn made it seem as if Tratton did not take them seriously, if he was even out on that steel ship of his at all. Even those who'd thought something might come of Urthblood's diplomatic overtures had been totally caught off guard by the exchange of the woodland rats for Tratton's slaves. This development sprang wholly unanticipated from these discussions, a stormpowder keg dropped by Urthblood into his own captains' laps as much as Tratton's. And the reverberations of that decree had barely begun to make themselves felt - at Salamandastron, and throughout the lands to the north, east and south.

Matowick and Mattoon stood at the plateau crater rim, gazing out to sea. The crimson sunset silhouetted the receding sails of the _Wavestrike_ and the _Darksky_; the _Wedge_ cut too low a profile to be visible any longer from this distance. Soon even the tall masts of the two traditional sailing ships would dip below the evening ocean horizon, and the searats' extended visit here would be but a memory.

"There goes half my platoon," the weasel captain lamented into the onshore breezes. "Havin' Lorsch an' Cermak's rats bolsterin' my thinned weasel ranks since last summer gave me a full-strength squad, but now it's gutted just as surely as it was by Urthfist's sword when he an' his mad hares cut down near half my regular troops. I'd suspect Lord Urthblood was plannin' on mergin' my brigade with one o' th' others, 'cept th' most logical one'd be Cap'n Saybrook's otters, an' they got reassigned up north again."

Matowick shot Mattoon a sideways glance. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Well, that's what 'is Lord told us. Why? You hear somethin' diff'rent?"

"Lord Urthblood only told us they were returning to the Northlands - he never said it was at his orders." Matowick returned his gaze to the rippling scarlet sheet spread out before them. "They quit."

"What?"

"Resigned. Every last one of them. Tardo told me - he was there when it happened. That stuff the gulls dropped on the enemy shrews was poison vapors of some kind, and once Saybrook got a good look at what it had gone to them - and to the otters they had with 'em - he apparently decided then and there to have nothing more to do with Urthblood anymore ... and got all his otters to go along with him." The squirrel's eyes slipped toward Mattoon once more. "I've heard rumors you may've known something about that weapon even before Lord Urthblood used it. That true?"

The weasel hung his head, unable to meet Matowick's gaze. "I knew he was testin' somethin' on those searat prisoners that was makin' 'em die horribly, but 'is Lordship discouraged too many questions bein' asked. Never knew 'xactly what it was ... or that he'd ever use it this way."

"Well, he used it all right, and now it's cost us our otters. Not that we'll need them anymore for defending Salamandastron, or the inland waterways, now that we're at peace." Matowick almost sniffed that last word in disdain.

"You don't reckon Tratton's gonna keep up his end of th' deal?"

"I don't know. All I know is there'll be Hellsgates to pay if he doesn't."

"Did you have any notion he was gonna give up all our rats t' get them slaves free?"

"No, I didn't. That came as a complete surprise to me ... or perhaps I should say shock. I never imagined he'd throw anything like that into the deal."

"Yah, well, all I c'n say is those were some mighty unhappy rats who boarded them two pirate ships ... an' with no weapons, no less. If it wasn't fer yer squirrels marchin' 'em out to th' landin' boats practically at swordpoint, an' Urthblood standin' over 'em too, I don't rightly know if they woulda gone, orders or no."

"Well, from what I hear, that's just the beginning of it. The rats stationed here at Salamandastron were good enough for getting the slaves off of those two warships, but Tratton's got enough beasts in bondage to fill this mountain. Lord Urthblood told Tratton he'd deliver all his trooprats from the Northlands by mid-autumn, and even hinted that he might give the searats civilians as well."

Mattoon's eyes widened. "Can ... can he _do_ that?"

"He's Urthblood. When did you ever know him _not_ to do something he set his mind to? But it'll be a whole new alignment of our forces, and their mission. A large part of their duty has always been to stand against searat incursions. Now they're gonna have their paws full rounding up other rats to give to those very same searats. It's ... bizarre. And it'll take some getting used to."

"But all good fer th' gander if it keeps th' peace, huh? Well, at least we got near two hunnerd o' Tardo's shrews t' make up fer Saybrook's otters an' my rats. We're still well-defended here, if war breaks out again."

"And Scarbatta's gulls. I think they were the main thing that got Tratton to the negotiating table. He didn't want to lose anymore ships ... or to have a squadron of bomberbirds appearing over Terramort dropping flaming oil and vitriol. Or something even worse."

"What was it like, sittin' across from Tratton?" Mattoon asked.

Matowick shrugged. "He's just a rat."

"Yeah," Matton said skeptically. "An' Urthblood's just a badger."


	11. Chapter 123

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three

All was quiet at Foxguard.

The Redwall delegation had returned to the Abbey the very same day that they'd seen Doublegate's burning, wanting to be back home in the event that this latest attack presaged a wider war in Mossflower. Some days after that, Saugus had arrived at the fox fortress with the news that Snoga's hostile forces had been destroyed and that the threat to these woodlands was removed. This report broke the tension that had held sway at Foxguard, and Tolar was able to stand down from the high state of alert he'd ordered. Saugus could not say exactly how the True Guosim had been defeated, but with Lord Urthblood's seagulls involved in the assault, the fox Sword was sure that defeat must have been total and overwhelming.

If this victory was encouraging, the owl bore other news that stirred consternation in the hearts of the Badger Lord's Mossflower defenders. The revelation that Urthblood had entered into face-to-face negotiations with the searats - mentioned almost in passing by Saugus - left every fox and mole and otter staring at the winged messenger as if he had grown a second beak. Surely those talks would be scuttled, now that Tratton had helped Snoga attack Doublegate? Saugus did not seem to think so ... which only left the foxes and woodlanders here all the more puzzled.

And left Tolar casting nervous glances at his unfinished outer wall. That such awesome searat weapons had been used so far inland ... If the peace negotiations at Salamandastron broke down, the war would surely continue, perhaps more fiercely than before. Foxguard sat almost right upon the River Moss. Tolar was stricken with visions of an armored enemy ship sailing up from the sea with an entire hold of the explosive compound, and what that weapon might be able to do to Foxguard. The battle with Snoga might be over, but who could say whether worse clashes with their main adversary might not still lie ahead?

Thus it came as a great relief to the swordfox chieftain when, some days after Saugus had departed, his morning lookouts spied a small caravan of logboats crewed by otters heading downriver toward them. Tolar and Lieutenant Rontorka met Saybrook's party at the canal bank, the junior otter officer snapping off a salute to his superior. "Ahoy, Cap'n! What news?"

"News aplenty," Saybrook answered somberly as he and his squad climbed out of their crude vessels up onto the banks. Rontorka couldn't help but notice that the logboats held room for nearly twice the number of otters in Saybrook's present company. "I'll tell ye all about it."

Tolar looked over the disembarking otter platoon with approval. "I see Lord Urthblood sent you to help speed up the construction of our outer wall. Your muscle will be most welcome, Captain."

Saybrook gave Tolar a sour glance. "Nay, we ain't here fer that, matey. Hate t' disappoint you, but we'll not be stayin' long." He turned to Rontorka. "Lieutenant, get all yore squad an' bring 'em here. We got some issues t' discuss."

"What issues?" Tolar asked.

Again, Saybrook looked to the fox askance. "This's otter business, friend, not yours. Fer our ears only."

"I'm the commander of this compound, by Lord Urthblood's decree," Tolar reminded the otter captain with sharp formality.

"This ain't Urthblood business neither, an' we ain't inside yore walls ... so shove off."

Tolar didn't know how to react in the face of such insubordination from a fellow commander, so he gave a forced nod and retreated to the fortress proper while Rontorka's otters gathered with Saybrook's squad down at the side of the canal. What happened after that made him wish he'd been a little more forceful about being allowed to listen in on the otters' conference.

Lieutenant Rontorka sought out the senior fox in the hour before noontide, joining Tolar atop the small finished stretch of the ramparts overlooking the canal. "We're leavin', sir."

Tolar studied the otter. "If Lord Urthblood has reassigned you, I should have been part of your discussion. Explain yourself, Lieutenant."

"Nay, we ain't been reassigned, an' you ain't gotta call me 'tenant, anymore'n I still gotta call you my commander. We're resignin' from Lord Urthblood's service - resignin', an' headin' back home up north. We ain't his soldiers anymore."

Tolar was flabbergasted. "What ... what happened?"

"Urthblood did something he shouldn'ta oughta. We can't serve him anymore in good conscience."

"Why? What did he do?"

"You can ask him that yoreself next time y' see him."

"That's not good enough!"

"It'll hafta t' do." And with that, Rontorka turned his tail on Tolar and strode back down to rejoin his fellow otters at the canal.

By lunchtime, every otter of Urthblood's in Mossflower - all of Saybrook's squad, and all of Rontorka's too - was on the wide river, bound for their home in the Northlands. None would ever set foot in these forestlands again.

00000000000

Kothar couldn't believe he'd escaped from the inferno with his life.

Three days before - or had it been four now? - Urthblood's gulls had descended upon the coastal mining camp like an angry bolt out of the blue. In a matter of minutes, every one of the wooden structures was consumed in flames, along with all three vessels lying offshore. Gormillion had perished in his office, and it appeared that Captain Kirkirt and nearly half the crew of the _Keelfang_ had done likewise aboard their ill-fated warship. The survivors were the ones who'd either already been on shore or who'd been able to jump overboard and swim the short distance to the beach. That left Kothar as the ranking rat in charge of the disaster area.

The good news was that the killer seabirds had not swooped down upon the heavily-armed survivors in the confusion to press their assault. The bad news was that the attack had left those who'd lived through it with virtually no provisions or supplies, and no means of transportation to bear them away from this barren and desolate stretch of coastlands. In the end, Kothar had the others round up every scrap of food and drop of drink they could find, and led their ragged procession south.

"What about th' slaves?" one of the mining rats had inquired of the spyrat.

"Leave 'em to rot," Kothar spat in reply. "We'll barely have enough rations to get us far ourselves, much less those worthless lumps of fur. Last thing we need now is extra mouths t' feed!"

And so they'd started out, leaving the mine's woodland laborers chained up in their subterranean cells to waste away in their own good time.

A number of his fellow rats questioned Kothar's choice of escape route, wanting to know why south was any better than north or east. The intelligence officer acted quickly to quell any dissent.

"This attack came from the north. If we go that way, we're as like as not to run inta more of Urthblood's forces. An' east is where we just came from - not only is it a wasteland, but those shrews we attacked might be waitin' for us that way, an' they'll not give us a friendly greeting. If that badger knows enough about what happened at his shrew fort t' have his birds fly down here t' burn us out, then it stands t' reason his forces will be on alert all throughout Mossflower. So, we gotta head south."

"Yeah, but that takes us further from Terramort. How're we s'posed t' get home? Where're we gonna go?"

"King Tratton'll have a ship along here sooner or later. 'Til then, we gotta get to greener lands where we can forage, or where there'll be settlements we can raid."

"Yeah, but we can't go too far south or else we'll be on th' outskirts o' Southsward, an' we'll not be any more welcome there than in Mossflower ... "

"So you'd rather sit here an' starve t' death after our rations run out?"

Kothar's reasoning had sounded good, even to him, when they'd started their trek three or four days before. Now, on the third (or fourth) afternoon of the march, with the unblinking summer sun beating down on them, their provisions depleted and still no sign of hospitable land anywhere in sight, Kothar's decision was starting to look foolhardy.

"I can't understand it," the spyrat muttered. "I thought for sure we'd've hit greener lands 'fore this. We must be almost t' Southsward by now ... "

"Well, we ain't," grumbled another rat named Bisig, a sturdy fighter from Kirkirt's crew. In the last day or so Bisig had become increasingly vocal in his criticism of Kothar, not letting the usual searat fear of Uroza's agents intimidate him. "Now what're we gonna do?"

As the hundred searats stood milling about on the wide, shimmering sands debating their next move, scores of coldly appraising eyes sticking unnoticed up from beneath the sunbaked flats followed their every move.

"You challengin' me, Bisig?" Kothar growled, paw on his sword hilt.

"Sure, why not? Worst that'd happen is I'll die quickly on yer blade 'stead o' slowly by thirst an' hunger! We shoulda knowed better'n t' foller th' lead of a ratfink snitch like you!"

Such words could not go unanswered. Every other rat stepped back to give the two combatants room, knowing that this would be a duel to the death. No eye strayed from Kothar and Bisig.

The sand all around the searats erupted in showers of flying grains and silvergreen scales. Wraithlike figures, moving faster than any hare, rushed the rodents from all sides, deadly curved scimitars and even deadlier rakelike claws flashing in the afternoon sun. Long whipping tails lashed out, knocking rats' legs out from under them. Startled seavermin barely had time to reach for their weapons before they were struck down.

Kothar whirled away from Bisig to face this new threat. Drawing his sword, he just had time to see swivelling chameleon eyes staring out from an emotionless reptile face, only half a moment to hear the hiss of the curved blade that cleaved his head from his shoulders.

In less than a minute, it was all over. A hundred searats lay slain by a third that number of their attackers. The rodents had succeeded, as much by luck as anything, to cut the head off one of their assailants; that decapitated berserker had slain two more searats before succumbing to its own injury.

These furred intruders thus overcome, the victors proceeded to claim the fruits of their triumph.

The next morning, when the Gawtrybe brigade headed by Sergeant Custis tracked the fleeing searats to this spot, his company found that their quarry's footprints ended here in a mess of confused, bloodstained sand. Several of the squirrels scouted forward, but it was clear from the evidence of their eyes that the searats had gone no farther.

"Sir, what in the name of Dark Forest happened here?" one of the returned trackers asked his sergeant, mystified and perplexed by what he had encountered. "The tracks end here, an' we didn't see anymore comin' back north our way. An' there's so much blood ... an' that stench ... "

"I don't know," Custis confessed, no less befuddled than his subordinate. "But I think it's safe to say they're no longer our problem. If there aren't anymore tracks beyond this point, then we can't very well be expected to follow them, can we? Something took care of those searats, and I'm not exactly keen on sticking around to find out what it was. Okay, squirrels! About face and back the way we came! Let's get those mine slaves to Salamandastron!"

The Sleepers in the Sand - their blood not yet warmed to attack heat by the still-rising sun - lay silently watching the Gawtrybe withdraw, content to let this new prey escape unmolested and none the wiser to the presence of such a menace lying beneath their very footpaws.

00000000000

When the Guosim came marching out of the woods toward Redwall's east gate, the Abbey lookouts feared it might be an attack by Snoga. Word had yet to reach them about Urthblood's assault at Castle Marl, or the defection of the Badger Lord's otters, or any of the other momentous events that had recently been unfolding in the lands abroad. The smoke column from Doublegate hadn't even been visible from the Abbey, and everybeast there remained anxious about what was going on beyond their local section of Mossflower.

The confusion over these newcomers' identity was quickly dispelled when Pirkko, spotting his playmate Droge peering over the battlements, began waving and shouting up to the young hedgehog with unbridled enthusiasm, eliciting a similar reaction in return from Droge. Soon every watcher on the walltop joined in the happy ruckus, and the Guosim were hastily admitted into the Abbey by Monty's guards on the east lawns.

Abbot Arlyn and most of the other Abbey leaders were on paw to greet Log-a-Log inside the wallgate. "Well, well," the venerable mouse grinned at his old shrew friend, "we hadn't expected to see you again before autumn! What brings the Guosim back here so early?"

"Well, truth t' tell, Abbot, there was this big ol' lake way south o' here that was just dyin' t' be explored, an' don't think I wasn't tempted! That inland sea coulda kept us wanderin' fer another season, an' that just along her shores! But, uh, there's been a lot goin' on this summer, lots o' which we been party to, an' we figgered t'was only right t' slog our tails back here 'fore anything else, to keep you all abreast of it."

"They must be grave matters indeed, to have brought you back to Redwall with summer only half over. I think I can guess what one or two of them might be, but I'll let you tell these tales in your own way. I see you came through the forest east of here. Did you perchance pass by Foxguard on your way?"

"Aye, Abbot, that we did. Tolar gave us the grand ol' tour of th' place yesterday, tho' I must say I'm kinda glad that wall up atop his impossible tower came up t' my chest! Wouldn'ta wanted any less than that 'tween me an' that long fall t' th' lands below. We Guosim're beasts o' th' water, not birds ner squirrels, an' heights like that leave me feelin' downright mole-ish!"

"Burr hurr," put in Foremole, "oi can serpintly oidenterfoiy wi' that!"

"Did Tolar have any news about Doublegate, or Snoga?" Lady Mina asked over Arlyn's shoulder.

"T'wasn't much we had t' tell each other that we didn't already know - like I said, we Guosim've been in th' thick o' things this season - but that'll come out in th' tellin', I reckon. Don't s'pose any of Urthblood's birds or otters've been by here lately?"

"No," Arlyn answered. "We had some of our Sparra fly out to Foxguard in the days following the attack on Doublegate, but Tolar had not heard anything more about that situation ... at least that he was willing to share with us."

"Hmm. Thought that owl might've had th' decency t' stop by here after he left Foxguard, but I guess Urthblood's creatures follow their own rules o' courtesy. Tolar might've still been in th' dark last our sparrows paid him a visit, but I can assure you he ain't that way anymore ... to his regret."

"Then we are indeed eager to hear your tale," Arlyn said. "And we have some tidings of our own for you - not all of them happy, I'm afraid."

Vanessa, wearing a bright orange dress decorated with purple ribbons that made her look about as unAbbesslike as a creature could be, shouldered her way through the throngs of greeters. She stood there gawking at the Guosim with unabashed curiosity. "Why, look at all the little mousies! Or are they baby rats?"

Log-a-Log looked to Arlyn. "I see whatcher mean, Abbot."

00000000000

The Abbey elders and defenders retired down to Cavern Hole with Log-a-Log to hear his tale over a late lunch of watercress and onion pasties and fresh summer salad.

All sat enraptured by the account of this season's happenings in the south of Mossflower. The revelation that Snoga had allied himself with the searats for his attack on Doublegate elicited grunts of disbelief and mutters of condemnation against the renegade shrew. After the incident with Fryc and Broggen, the Abbeybeasts felt no great love toward Urthblood's shrews in general, but those crass Northlanders were still preferable to Snoga's gang of treacherous, villainous murderers.

That antagonism deepened considerably when Log-a-Log told them of Lorr's death. That bankvole had been as beloved among the Redwallers as with the Guosim, especially the Abbey children, who had never failed to be amused by the eccentric inventor's idiosyncrasies To have lost both Broggen and Lorr in the past season was a sad blow indeed.

Nor was much consolation to be found in Snoga's fate. That the barbaric shrew deserved a bitter end nobeast there would have denied, but the idea of a burning poison gas dropped by seagulls filled the Redwallers with revulsion to match their feelings toward anything Snoga had done. It was almost as if evil had been snuffed out by a greater evil. To have such a terrible weapon unleashed anywhere in Mossflower struck the peaceloving woodlanders as almost intolerable, and Colonel Clewiston made no bones about saying as much, his gravest suspicions about Urthblood seemingly confirmed anew.

Looking to the Abbot, the Long Patrol commander said, "First a slaughter of hares last summer at Salamandastron, an' now a slaughter of shrews usin' diabolical poison vapors! Wot's next - a slaughter of Redwallers?"

"That's not funny, Colonel," Mina said with ill humor.

"Don't reckon it looks like I'm laughing, madam. Abbot, you've gotta sit up an' take notice of this, wot? Urthblood's already proven his untrustworthiness time an' again, an' now he's taken to using weapons so fiendish they make Tratton's boompowder look downright civil!"

"And those weapons were used against an enemy who twice staged unprovoked attacks on Lord Urthblood's garrisons," Mina pounced. "The same enemy, I need hardly remind you, who knowingly assaulted Redwallers and struck down our Abbess, rendering her incapable of performing her duties. And who murdered Lorr, who was just about the most innocent, harmless creature you could ever hope to meet."

"Still doesn't justify what His Bloodiness did to Snoga, or to Hanchett, may seasons preserve that poor mad hare's soul. An' Urthblood's own otters musta felt mighty strongly 'bout him using that poison, if they went an' quit his bally army over it! Glad to know at least some of his woodlanders have a flippin' modicum of sense in their skulls!"

"Yes, that was surprising to hear," agreed Arlyn. "I was given to understand that the otters comprised a major component of Lord Urthblood's fighting forces, especially in battles involving water. However will he cope without them?"

"He sure couldn'ta taken Salamandastron last summer without 'em, or that sleepy stuff they used on us, that's for jolly sure."

"Oh, we could have taken it, believe me, Colonel," Mina begged to differ. "A score of hares holding out against six hundred warriors, led by a beast who knew the mountain inside and out? It would have been a massacre - which is precisely why Lord Urthblood went to such great lengths to prevent that very thing from happening. His compassion is the only reason you're sitting here now."

"Oh, posh! If that's his idea of compassion, I'd sooner choke on a blinkin' eggplant than be in his good graces!"

"After what he did to Snoga," Log-a-Log advised the hare, "y' sure don't wanna be in his bad graces, berlieve you me! An' as fer th' otters, if Tolar's any indication, their defection's bad news fer Urthblood. I could tell those swordfoxes were left shaken by th' thought of an entire species quittin' that badger's ranks an' refusin' to serve 'im anymore."

"Well, at any rate," Mina went on, "at least you can't accuse Lord Urthblood of working secretly with Tratton anymore, if searats helped Snoga attack Doublegate. He views the Searat King as a mortal enemy, and would never cooperate with that murderous tyrant."

"Um, that was the other part I'd not gotten 'round to yet ... " Log-a-Log proceeded to tell the Redwallers about the peace negotiations Urthblood had initiated with Tratton. Mina was no less astounded by this revelation than the others at the table.

"That jolly well puts the cream on the trifle, wot?" Clewiston declared. "Those two _are_ in cahoots, an' now it's in the bally open for all to see!" He settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest in vindication.

"Now, Colonel," said Log-a-Log, "I'd not go that far, not by a good stretch. Those two're mortal adversaries, that much came across in what I saw o' their talks. They was talkin' like two sides who were still at war, an' tryin' t' grope their way through to some kind o' peace. I sat in on a lot o' their sessions, an' I can tell ya they were lookin' fer a way t' keep from destroyin' each other, not fer any kinda alliance."

"What was Tratton like?" Geoff inquired, his historian's curiosity getting the better of him.

Log-a-Log shrugged. "Can't say. Never saw 'im. All the negotiatin' was done by 'is Viceroy, rat by th' name o' Korba. For all we ever found out, could be Tratton wasn't even out on that steel ship o' his, just wanted us t' think he was. Things seemed pretty mired down an' close to a deadlock when we hadta go rushin' off t' take care o' Snoga."

"It's all irrelevant now," Mina said dismissively. "If Tratton was playing Lord Urthblood false during these talks, stalling even as he helped Snoga launch the attack against Doublegate, Urthblood would never return to the table after such underpawed treachery."

"I'd not be too sure 'bout that, Mina," the Guosim chieftain told her. "I heard Urthblood say several times, after we found out t'was searats as well as Snoga's shrews who'd attacked his fort, that mebbe they'd acted on their own, without Tratton's say-so. Sounded t' me fer all th' world like that badger was still tryin' t' salvage his summit, an' justify goin' back to th' negotiations once he returned to Salamandastron."

"Did Tolar know anything about whether the talks had resumed?" Alex asked. "It makes sense that Urthblood might use his birds to keep Foxguard informed on matters of such magnitude ... "

"Accordin' t' Tolar, none o' them brushtails even knew 'bout these negotiations 'tween Urthblood an' Tratton 'til that owl filled 'em in."

"That's odd," said Mina. "Even if Tolar's brigade has nothing to do with the defense of the coastlands, he's still one of Lord Urthblood's top commanders, and I can't see why Tolar wouldn't be kept appraised of something so vital as this."

"Yah," Clewiston readily agreed, "makes a chap wonder just wot it is that big brute's up to, wot?"

"We always knew that Urthblood would do as Urthblood will do," Arlyn said with a sigh. "I will not even try to hazard a guess about any of this. Log-a-Log, did you get a sense from his shrews, or from Tolar's foxes, that any of his other beasts might be on the verge of joining the otters in leaving Urthblood's service over this incident with Snoga?"

Log-a-Log thought about this for a few moments, then shook his head. "Nay, his shrews're about as loyal as they come, an' while Cap'n Tardo might've been shocked fer a trice when he first saw that courtyard full o' death on Snoga's island, I think he was glad they met that end, no matter how horrible it was. I gather they'll stick by Urthblood even through these negotiations with th' very searats who helped Snoga attack 'em. His seagulls sure didn't bat an eye at what they'd done, I'll tell ya that. As fer Tolar's foxes, or any o' that badger's other beasts ... " He shrugged again. "Guess they'll each hafta make up their own minds. But y' really hadta be there, t' see it yerself with yer own eyes ... "

"The Gawtrybe will never abandon their alliance with Lord Urthblood," Mina declared. "He's just done too much good in the Northlands for us to even contemplate such a thing, and anyway, there is his prophecy to consider. We may still be in the early stages of this crisis, or it may still be possible to head it off completely. I have no doubt that this is what he hopes to achieve in treating with Tratton, and as for Snoga, that was a threat to the lands that is now removed. If Lord Urthblood resorted to a rather extreme method of dealing with Snoga, I am confident he did what he thought was best, and I am not going to question his judgment in the matter."

"Oh? An' wot if he gets it in his striped head that Redwall's a bally threat to th' lands?" asked Clewiston. "Or his warped 'n' twisted notion of wot th' lands oughta be?"

Mina snorted. "Colonel, sometimes I think your skull is so full of nonsense that it's useless trying to hold a conversation with you."

Arlyn held up both paws before the exchange between hare and squirrel could grow any more heated. "Let's just concede that on the subject of Urthblood, you two agree to disagree. The question now is, what next?"

"What _is_ there for us to do?" asked Alex. "What's done is done. Even though Hanchett and Lorr became involved in these sad affairs, these were for the most part events that took place far from Redwall, deep in lower Mossflower. Snoga will never trouble us again, and as far as Urthblood making peace with Tratton, who's to say it's not a good idea, if it can end a war that's already claimed hundreds of lives on both sides? Tratton never directly threatened Redwall anyway, and now he probably never will. Sounds to me as if we're moving away from a crisis, not toward one."

"Unless he an' Tratton team up against us," Clewiston speculated, eliciting a sharp glare from Mina.

"Or unless this entire deal with Tratton is just a way to put this conflict with the searats on hold while he turns his attention to us," suggested Geoff.

Arlyn turned back to the shrew. "What do you think about this, Log-a-Log? You've shared Urthblood's company more recently than any of the rest of us. Do you deem it possible that he could harbor any ill will or designs against Redwall at all?"

"I honestly didn't see it, Abbot. I think that badger's got his paws - er, paw - so full with so many other things, we're hardly an immediate concern o' his. Then again, if he'd talk peace with searats, who can say what he might do next?"

"And what about you, Log-a-Log? How do you feel about Urthblood yourself after seeing what he did to Snoga?"

"What can I say? Snoga was my rival, an' even if nobeast deserved an end as terrible as he got, Urthblood took care o' him fer me. 'Sides, it looked like Hanchett's paws may've done 'im in 'fore that gas ever got to 'em. An' I can never ferget that I owe Pirkko's freedom to this warrior lord. I swore him th' friendship an' alliance of th' Guosim last summer, an' I'm bound t' aid him if he ever calls on me fer help. He'd hafta do a lot more'n he's done 'fore I'd consider goin' back on that oath."

Arlyn heaved a sigh. "So there we have it. A summer of tragedy and strife, to follow our losses of last spring. I suppose I should get started on some sort of memorial tribute for Lorr and Hanchett. We might not have their bodies to plant in the ground, but we can still hold a ceremony to commemorate them."

"Thank ye, Abbot," said Log-a-Log. "We was all very fond o' Lorr, an' Pirkko's 'specially sick over what happened t' him."

"Yes, thank you, sir," Clewiston echoed. "Hanchett may've disgraced himself with his unharelike behavior, but he was still one of us, don'tcha know, an' he deserves a few parting words of kindness t' send his troubled spirit on its way."

"Do you think you and the Guosim are here to stay for the winter?" Arlyn asked Log-a-Log as they all rose from the table and started to file out of Cavern Hole.

"No, I don't reckon so, Abbot. Still got near half o' summer left, an' we can't sit still in one place 'til next springtide. I just figgered you'd wanna know all 'bout what'd gone on, an' t' hear it from somebeast y' trust who'd been there t' see it fer themself. We'll be off again after th' service."

"I appreciate your detour here to bring us this news. Where do you think you'll go now?"

"Oh, nowheres too far. Certainly not back out to th' coast, much as I'd like t' see how things shake out 'tween Urthblood 'n' Tratton. An' that big lake's gonna hafta wait fer next year's wanderin's. Prob'ly head up north Mossflower just a ways an' poke around there a bit. P'raps we'll even be back in time fer autumn Nameday, fer a change. Why settle fer just two Nameday feasts, when we can enjoy three?" The shrew's jovial tone changed to a more somber one. "Um, you are still plannin' on holdin' next Nameday, ain'tcha?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Arlyn was genuinely surprised at the question.

"Well, I was figgerin' with the Abbess an' all ... "

"Oh, that won't stop us. Winokur and I have already decided to help each other pick a name for the season, and everybeast here is looking forward to a fine feast indeed. As for Vanessa, in her current state I suspect she'd terrorize us our every waking moment if she thought we were going to cancel Nameday, until we relented."

"Any idea if she'll ever get back to her proper wits?" Even though he'd already known about the events at Foxguard, Log-a-Log was still astounded by the complete transformation of Vanessa's personality, just from having spent a few minutes with her before this council. "I mean, what's to become o' her if'n she don't?"

"What's to become of any of us?" Arlyn replied. "She's a Redwaller, and in spite of her rather bizarre affliction, she will continue to receive all the best that we can provide for her. As for what the future holds for her or any of the rest of us, who can say? We shall just have to wait and see, and let these questions be answered for us by the fullness of time. Something tells me we may indeed still have some very interesting times ahead of us."


End file.
